Mine
by cakebythepound
Summary: "Let's stop holding back on this and let's get carried away..." Rick and Michonne's unlikely friendship is quietly turning into something else. (100% Richonne, takes place in the break between S3 and S4. The entire group is mentioned, but mainly focuses on Rick, Michonne, and Carl. Warnings: Language, Adult stuff and things)
1. best laid plans

**1: best laid plans**

They'd lost so much since they found the prison. Lori. T-Dog. Andrea. Merle. Oscar. Axel… Hershel's leg… Rick's sanity… Carl's humanity. The group was hanging on by a thread. It was a wonder they hadn't all cracked. But there was a bright side to all the madness they'd endured – they'd found a home. They'd found a place they could fortify and make safe and build a life. Rick recognized that the second they stumbled upon the prison, and he had no intentions of letting it go. A bunch of undead corpses and a psychopath with an eye-patch were not going to change that. No, he was going to make this work.

"Carl." Rick had just come in from his perimeter check to find his son tucked away in his cell, absolutely knocked out. He stirred at the sound of his father's voice. "Carl, get up. Get dressed."

In recent weeks, Carl had been insolent with his father, to say the least, but in his tiredness, he failed to muster an attitude when he softly asked, "What for?"

"We're going out."

Carl rubbed his sleepy blue eyes, identical to his dad's, and squinted at the darkness. "We are?"

"On a run, yes," Rick supplied. "Do you need a full itinerary, or can you do what I asked?"

"Just you and me?"

Rick couldn't tell whether the idea excited or dismayed him, so he carefully replied, "I asked Michonne to come, too."

Carl tried to contain a smile. "Are we going back home again?" He recalled the last time the three of them went on a run together, still contented by the results of that trip. He liked Michonne. A lot more than he liked his dad at the moment.

"No," Rick smirked, having similar feelings about that trip. But he hated that his son still referred to King County as their home. Those days wee long gone, the dark, gray prison being all they had left. "Stop playing detective and get ready to go."

Carl did as told, disappearing to the showers while Rick returned to his own quarters. "That was easier than I thought it would be." He countered his statement with a sigh of exasperation and sat down on his bed, across from his cell guest. "Thank you for coming, by the way."

Michonne offered him a small smile – a tiny hint of the one that lit up her whole face and made his heart skip a beat. "Whatever you need, Rick."

He appreciated those words, but that was the thing – he didn't know what he needed. With the many, many events that had recently transpired, he felt like he'd been dropped into the middle of a maze. He was finally learning how to navigate this whole apocalypse thing, finally figuring out the keys to mere survival, but the universe kept throwing curveballs his way. His wife, then The fucking Governor, now a whole cell block full of new people to protect. He couldn't react quick enough to it all. He eventually nodded at Michonne's words, absentmindedly gazing at the feet of the chair she'd been sitting in.

"You see something?" she wondered, studying his lost expression. Whenever Rick focused on anything too long, she couldn't help but worry a bit, having been down that dark and twisty road herself.

Shaken from his trance, his eyes finally landed back on her chocolate profile. "No, just thinkin'." He searched her face, as he often did, trying to get a read of her getting a read of him. "It's been a while, actually. Since I've seen her…" he trailed off. "Feels like she might be gone."

While he never explicitly spoke of who or what he saw in his visions, Michonne had gathered that it was his recently deceased wife, for the most part. She would've hated it for him if he'd been haunted by all the ones they must have lost, and was relieved when he gave his hallucinations a pronoun. "I talked to my boyfriend for months," she announced, reminding him of the last time they spoke of this, back in his hometown. "I'm not sure if it ever goes away, or if you just learn to push it down." She frowned at the thought as she waited for Rick's reply.

"Did he die before? Or after?" he inquired cautiously, unsure if he'd stepped over a boundary. He saw her eyes dart downward and appended, "Please don't feel like you have to answer that."

"It was after."

He nodded thoughtfully.

"There's something about it that makes you feel like a failure, isn't there? Even though these shitty circumstances are uncontrollable, even though they're adults that are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves, you still feel like you're the one…"

"…that failed to be there," he lamented, finishing her sentence for her. He had no idea if that's what she was going do say, but that's what he felt, through and through. He'd failed to be there. He failed Lori because he wasn't there. This was why her ghost plagued him, and he knew it.

"I wasn't there," Michonne echoed with similar regret to her tone. With a sigh, she blinked back tears and hopped up from her seat. She wasn't a particularly open person, so she wasn't sure how she ended up in Rick Grimes' cell, somewhere near dawn, discussing feelings that she had long since learned to ignore. These were just things she didn't do. She kept that part of her to herself for a reason. Feelings were messy, and messy was a luxury she could no longer afford. It could be the difference between life and death. "You made sure the car is packed and ready to go, I presume?"

He nodded, the view he had of her face now replaced by her torso. "Just waitin' on Carl."

"I'll wait outside," she finished before making her swift exit.

She hoped that didn't seem rude, but that cell had begun to suffocate her. She had been sitting in there voluntarily, awaiting Rick's return, but she wasn't sure why. Some part of her liked his presence, she supposed. Even more, though, she liked that he didn't mind hers anymore. Even more confusing was she was glad when Rick decided to bring back that bus full of survivors from Woodbury. That many people being in the prison provided the illusion that she didn't have to be alone. Ever since Andrea died a couple of weeks prior, she found herself wanting to be around other people more often than not. This proved tricky, however, because becoming close to them was never in her plans.

But as she knew all too well, plans tended to change.


	2. on the run

_**A/N: Posting a couple more chapters while I have the time. Haven't written in a while, and never a TWD fic, so I'm a bit rusty, but I am way too into this ship to let it pass me by, haha. I really hope it's enjoyable! -Ash**_

**2: on the run**

Michonne and the Grimes boys were on the road by what they assumed to be 7am. The sun was just beginning to peak through the Georgia pine, and Michonne wished she still had her Ray-Bans from before the turn. She'd picked up a few newer pairs in recent months, but always broke them or lost them in some fight or another. The end of the world was clearly no place for sunnies.

"Wish I had some shades," Rick commented out loud, reading her mind.

She wasn't sure why, but she enjoyed the way he squinted all the time. It intensified what was already a pretty piercing stare, she thought. She was glad he didn't have some pair of aviators to cover them up. "You could always take your hat back," she joked.

Carl looked up from where he was reading his comic book in the back seat, none too pleased with the suggestion. "This is my hat now, thank you."

Rick eyed his son via the rear-view mirror. "I was gonna say the same," he grinned. "You can't just give away a man's stuff, Michonne."

"I stand corrected." She held her hands up in playful surrender. "There's a new sheriff in town, I guess." She pulled Rick's sun visor down and did the same for herself.

"Thanks. I wasn't sure how that worked," Rick supplied sarcastically. He tightened his grip on the wheel as he took note of three walkers ambling across the road ahead. The cold weather had weakened them considerably, so he slowed to a crawl, allowing them to pass before they could notice the car.

Carl put his comic book down all together and took a keen interest in the walkers. Other than their fairly easy trip to King County, he hadn't been on a run since the previous winter, but he remembered he needed to keep his guard up, just in case. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?" Rick answered him without taking his eyes off the road.

"Where are we going?"

"I told you, supply run."

"Yeah, but why didn't you bring Glenn? Or Daryl? Tyreese was even looking for you yesterday, said he wanted to be a part of the next run."

"Well… everybody needs a break now and then," he answered offhandedly. "And I need you just as much as I need them."

Carl thought about this for a moment, knowing that there had to be a catch, but unable to figure out what it was. "Michonne?"

"Yes, Carl?"

"Do you know where we're going?"

"In fact, I do." She smiled that smile back at Carl and then at Rick, knowingly, lighting up the entire car more than any sun ever could. "Just sit back and enjoy the ride."

"Why do I feel like I'm being set up?"

"It's not a setup," Rick promised.

Carl's sharp blue eyes darted back and forth between his father and his new friend. "Is this for Judith?"

"No… not really."

"Is this a punishment?" Carl knew he'd been in hot water for shooting that kid in the woods, and maybe even more, for the way he'd been acting around the prison afterwards, so he didn't know what to make of this secretive supply run.

"It's not a punishment, Carl."

"I'd say it's quite the opposite," Michonne added, searching Rick's face for approval to tell him what was going on.

Carl didn't understand why they couldn't just say what it was. Adults were so weird sometimes. "If you weren't my dad, I would think I was being kidnapped, you know."

"It's a good thing I'm your dad then, isn't it," Rick joked.

They traveled for another 45 minutes in mostly comfortable silence. Aside from when Rick opened the window to get some fresh air and his other two companions complained about the cold. He obliged their request, being reminded of family trips he and Lori used to take with Carl. She was, in no way, an outdoorsy type, and would complain when he opened a window, no matter what the season. He minded it then, but didn't now. He was open to anything that was any type of semblance of before.

And then, they reached their destination. Rick turned into the large parking lot, a few walkers scattered across it, and pulled right to the front of the establishment.

Carl was predictably frowning in the back seat. "What is this?" he demanded, harsher than he'd intended.

"Can't you read?" Michonne teased him, releasing her seatbelt and readying her katana.

"I mean, why are we at Toys 'R' Us?"

"Because it's one of the few places in this place that hasn't been looted to death."

Carl looked at Michonne like she was crazy. "That's because everything in here is useless. What are we doing here, Dad?"

"Carl, I want you to fill this car with everything you want," Rick proclaimed, exiting the car. He opened the door for his son and pulled out his gun silencer along with him. "Because you deserve as much of a childhood as possible. And because we're somewhere close to Christmas, and you can help the new kids at the prison acclimate to whatever this life is gonna be."

Carl was frowning as he pondered the idea. "Dad… I'm not a kid, there's nothing in there that I want."

Rick had gone through the trouble of clearing out the entire store two days prior, he wasn't going to let Carl's attitude ruin it. "You sure about that?" The three of them drew their weapons, carefully approaching the entrance, but Rick continued. "I'm quite certain there are a few Nintendo DSi's in there that could keep you occupied."

Carl's eyes widened when he realized what a gold mine he had in front of him. He wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of it before. Endless games, puzzles, action figures and dolls for the kids at the prison. A litany of toys Judith would be able to grow up playing with. And his dad was right, a never-ending supply of handheld video games were at his disposal. Once the battery ran out on one, he could move on to the next one. "I can really get anything I want?" he asked cautiously.

"Everything you want," Rick corrected him. He couldn't escape the morbid thought that entered his mind – that this may be the last Christmas his son would ever have.

Carl motioned to grab a shopping cart, but stopped in his tracks and looked back at his dad. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are we doing this? Things don't mean anything anymore…"

"Things can be the difference between a good day and a bad day," Michonne offered softly, placing her hands on Carl's shoulders. "I know when I had a long day, all I wanted to do was curl up with Mario Kart and forget the world. That's not nothing."

"You can't underestimate the power of a happy spirit," Rick added.

"Morale," Carl supplied thoughtfully, even though he still didn't think he deserved this. He would do it for Judith and for the other kids at the prison.

"Carl." Rick could read his son like no other sometimes. "This is for you, too."

"I know, Dad."

"I'm serious. You're a good kid. And I probably don't say it enough – I probably don't say anything enough, but you need to know it. You deserve this." And it was true. Despite all the calamity he'd seen, Carl was trying. The kid he shot a few weeks ago was a major bump in the road, and he would probably never be the same after the death of his mother, but Rick wanted him to know that he appreciated his efforts. He admired that his son never lied to him. Even with their relationship at its most stringent, Carl remained honorable, and he wanted to reward that, even if in the tiniest way possible.

With a nod, and the most imperceptible of smiles, Carl commenced his shopping spree.


	3. christmastime is here

**3: christmastime is here**

The prison's makeshift Christmas celebration had done wonders for everyone's spirits, especially Carl. He felt a great swell of pride being able to put smiles on the faces of the few other kids that had joined the prison. They spent most of their days helping clean up with everyone else, and he was glad he had a hand in giving them a break.

Daryl was able to catch a deer, instead of his usual haul of squirrel and owl, and Maggie and Glenn rustled up a few bottles of wine on their latest run for baby formula. They were going to be eating well for Christmas.

The evening of what they had declared to be December 25th, the entire group gathered in the prison cafeteria for their feast. Carol and one of the Woodbury-ites, Karen, had spent most of the day preparing the food, and Hershel made it a point to toast to them before anyone ate.

"I'll make this quick," he promised, holding unsteadily to a cup of water while trying to stay on his crutches. "I just wanted to take a moment to thank Carol and Karen for their hard work this afternoon in getting this meal prepared for us." He motioned towards the long table where the venison and several versions of canned vegetables were awaiting them. "To you, ladies," he grinned.

"Here, here," was the resounding reply as everyone took sips from their drinks.

"And also," Hershel submitted before they could disperse, "It's been a rough few months, I know. For all of us. But I want to express my thanks to this man right here," he gestured towards Rick, who stood across from him with Judith in his arms. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, Rick. None of us would. And I thank you for finding this prison; thank you for saving my life and giving me more time with my girls; hell, thank you for this celebration tonight. This was your vision before it was anyone else's. And I know you've been hard on yourself, but I think I speak for everyone when I say that we owe you every gratitude for getting us to this moment. To our fearless leader, Rick Grimes."

Rick bashfully bowed his head at the praise and applause, trying not to show how much he hated it. But he'd made so many mistakes, he wasn't sure how any of them could be thanking him for anything. "We're here because of all of us," he felt the need to remind them. "But thank y'all. Y'all enjoy tonight, all right?"

As the group separated to finally eat, Rick turned from the scene to find Carl standing behind him. "You should have fun too tonight, Dad."

"I was planning to."

"Really? Because I think you were gonna cling to Judith and use her as an excuse to leave the party sooner than later."

He cursed himself for raising such a perceptive kid, but smiled at him. "You just know everything, huh?"

"I'm just saying, Dad. They like when you're around. It feels like maybe everything is okay for the moment."

"Is that how they feel?"

"And it's how I feel, too," Carl admitted quietly. He knew he'd been an asshole lately, but that didn't mean he loved or needed his dad any less. A sense of calm washed over him when he was nearby.

Rick was almost shocked at his open admission, even if he knew as much in his heart. It was nice to see a hint of his son again. "I'm gonna feed Judith, how 'bout you fix us a couple of plates?"

Carl nodded and headed for the food table as told, excited that he'd get to spend some time with his father and the rest of the group. It was such a rarity to have more than a few uninterrupted minutes with him. He liked that his father was important, that he was needed by others. It made him feel important by extension. But sometimes, he just missed the old days, where he and his dad would sit in the den all day Sunday. Whether it was watching the Falcons lose, or playing chess, or rehearsing lines for the school play, his dad had always been there with him, and he wanted some of that back, even if it were just a sliver of what it once was.

"You could use a few more vegetables on that plate," Rick reprimanded jokingly as Carl found him at a corner table.

"I didn't wanna take them all," he shrugged, placing a plate in front of his father.

Rick grinned as he watched Judith take her bottle. He made a couple of faces at her and he could see the smile in her bright blue eyes. "She looks so much like you."

He thoughtfully gazed at his baby sister, admiring that her eyes were identical to his and his father's. "She looks like us."

Rick's smile didn't disappear as he looked around the large room, struck by how lucky he was. Tragedy had certainly hit him hard, but things could have been worse, and he knew that. His wife was gone, but he had both of his children – a rarity in this new world – and at that moment, his family was healthy and happy. It was a merry Christmas.

"Did you want some wine?" Carl wondered when he realized he hadn't gotten them anything to drink.

"Not particularly," Rick shrugged, catching his son's eyes. "Did you?"

Carl thought back to the first time he tried wine at the CDC and made a face. "God, no."

The older Grimes chuckled genuinely. "It's not my preference either," he admitted softly.

"Corona with lime," Carl remembered from before. "I hope beer tasted better than that wine stuff."

"You wouldn't have liked it," Rick decided, looking down just in time to see Judith's eyes fall closed.

"I would give anything for a cold root beer, though."

"Root beer float."

"Yes," Carl grinned, happy at the mere thought. "With those marsharino cherries Mom used to put on them."

"Maraschino," Rick corrected him absently. He watched his son devour his food, happy that he would go to bed full that night. As Carol sat down at a table across from them, he made sure to mouth her a _Thank you_.

It wasn't too long before Daryl joined her, and Rick smirked to himself. He was glad that the two of them had found each other, even if only platonically. Everyone needed someone in this new world, and he was always afraid that after Sophia, Carol would withdraw. But she'd done quite the opposite, which gave him hope for making a full recovery himself.

"Do you think you'll ever move on from Mom," Carl inquired carefully, shaking his dad from his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"I mean, not tomorrow or anything, but could you see yourself ever loving someone like that again?"

Rick squinted at the question, as he often did when he wasn't sure what would come out of his mouth next if he didn't think about it first. He repositioned Judith so that she was in one arm and began to finally eat with his free hand. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Just wondering. If I'll ever have a mom again."

"Carl…"

"I know Mom will always be my mom," he corrected himself quickly. "But I mean… Judith deserves someone like I had. We all do."

Rick's heart broke at the idea that Carl was in search of filling that missing void, but he knew it was logical for his son to feel that way, even if impractical in this new world. "Son, I can't just fall in love with someone because you need a new mom." He was trying to keep the atmosphere light, but wasn't sure he was succeeding. "If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't… I can be your mom. Your dad. Your brother. Your cousin. Your great uncle."

"I get it, Dad," Carl smiled, inhaling another spoonful of green beans. "It's no rush. I was just wondering if you were open to it."

"In this world, kid, I'm open to just about anything."

Across the room, Michonne had just entered the cafeteria, dressed in a festive red top instead of her usual shirt, vest, and poncho combination. Carl smiled at the sight, noting that his friend looked like Christmas personified. It appeared that Rick noticed the same, because he caught her eye and gestured with a nod for her to come join them.

"Well good evening," she greeted the Grimes boys with a grin. She really did look like Christmas morning when she smiled.

"Where've you been?" Carl wondered, turning around in his seat to meet her gaze. "You almost missed all the food."

"I'm just here for the wine," she shrugged, taking a seat next to her buddy.

"Well I'll get you both," he popped up, happy to oblige. "Dad?"

"Just some water."

"Party pooper," Michonne rolled her eyes teasingly and returned to Carl, "Bring him some wine, too."

Carl looked to his dad for approval, and decided he'd gotten it when his dad smiled. "Coming right up."

As his son disappeared, Rick focused his attention on the striking woman in front of him. "You clean up nice," he complimented her, inhaling her scent of what had to be pomegranate and mango.

"Well thanks. I found some shower gel a couple of days ago, figured it was time to give myself a nice scrub."

A vision of Michonne in the shower flashed through Rick's mind and he instantly knocked it away, shaking his head. "Red's a good color on you."

"Thank you." She was grinning again. She wanted to find something to compliment him on, but he looked exactly the same as he did when she left him. Not that that was a bad thing, but anything she said would've sounded as though she'd been studying him or something equally creepy. Instead, she focused on Judith, asleep in her father's protective embrace. She imagined what that must have felt like, but pushed those thoughts back down, along with all her other crazy ones. "She is knocked out, huh."

He looked down at his baby with a smile. "I always seem to put her to sleep," he joked.

She definitely didn't want to get too deep into a conversation about that, so she immediately changed the subject. "Everyone looks happy," she observed, scanning the room for faces she knew. "Nicely done."

Rick felt himself beginning to blush. Even if Christmas was his idea, he hated taking the credit for it when everyone put in equal work to get it done. "You happy?"

"Happy as can be expected," she answered softly. In the corner of her eye, she caught the image of Carl returning to them and turned so that she was facing the tabletop.

Rick couldn't help but laugh when he saw that Carl had loaded her plate with vegetables.

"What's so funny?" Michonne wondered, gratefully accepting the plate from the kid.

"Nothin'," he smirked, passing her a napkin. "My son is just too smart for his own good."

"Sasha told me to give this to you," Carl announced, handing his dad an unopened bottle of champagne. "She said not to take no for an answer."

He looked towards the front of the room, where Sasha was watching carefully for his reaction. She raised her glass to him and she knew it was meant as a thank you, so he accepted it graciously, with a smile. He supposed there were worse things in the world than being appreciated. And having Christmas dinner with his kids and Michonne wasn't so bad either. On the surface, it almost seemed as though he was… happy.


	4. happy new year

**4: happy new year**

The week following Christmas had gone by so quickly. Life in the prison during the winter months was going much more smoothly than the previous few, and Rick was grateful. He wasn't sure about the rest of them, but he knew he couldn't take any more bad shit. The party had gone well – better than expected, really – and some of the younger folk at the prison decided they wanted to do the same for New Year's.

The feast wasn't as grand, though no one was going to turn their nose up at the boar Daryl and Tyreese managed to catch, but spirits remained high. Carl had brought back dozens of decks of cards on their run to the toy store, so New Year's Eve had been designated as game night. That night, the cafeteria was so lively, it seemed as if they weren't all experiencing the end of the world together. Just a fun evening full of friends.

Each table in the cafeteria boasted a different activity. Most of the kids in the prison had collected at either the Monopoly table or waiting to play Battleship, while the adults had games of poker, gin rummy, Phase 10, and Cards Against Humanity at their respective tables.

Carl had been splitting his time between the poker table, where his dad was kicking ass and taking names, and the Phase 10 table, where Michonne was teaching Daryl, Maggie, and several others how to play the game. It was too complicated to hold his attention, but he figured he could ask Michonne to teach him anytime.

"Show your hand, Rhee," Rick could be overheard saying. There was a cocky smirk plastered across his face, and the folks across from their table couldn't help but notice.

"Sounds like Rick is taking your man for everything he got," Daryl noted to Maggie. "You sure you don't wanna go over there an' help him?"

"Because you're tired of me kickin' your ass over here?" Maggie's eyebrows lifted sarcastically as she picked up a card and was able to complete her phase. "No chance."

"Fast learner," Michonne looked on, impressed, but let her gaze fall to the poker table. Rick really was cleaning up. He had Tyreese's whole stash of ramen noodles, Karen's milano cookies, a stack of cans of sardines, two bags of fruit snacks, and even the rare delicacy that was a can of Coke. She couldn't help but lick her lips at the fruit snacks, wondering if he'd be kind enough to share if she asked. _Should've played poker_, she thought to herself.

"Your turn, Michonne," Robin, one of the newer additions to the prison, announced.

"Shit. Okay." She had to stop thinking about the fruit snacks first. Damn her sweet tooth. She pulled a card from the stack, relieved that it was a wild card so she could complete her own phase.

"God dammit." Daryl threw down his cards in mock frustration, glancing at everyone that had succeeded where he failed. "This shit is rigged."

"It's not rigged if you can count," Beth inserted, looking back at her sister for approval of her dig. Maggie gave her a reassuring snicker.

"You givin' up, Dixon?" Michonne directed towards him with a raised eyebrow.

"Hell no, I'm not lettin' y'all beat me at this shit. I just need a drink."

"Need an excuse to lose, huh?" Beth continued to chide him.

"All right, sunshine, we get it, you're winnin'. Ain't gotta rub it in."

She offered him a flirtatious smile that nobody missed, including Daryl, and went back to the game. "April, it's your turn."

-

A few hours later, the group had dwindled considerably. Most of the kids had gone to bed, the adults counted down to what they assumed to be midnight, and then called it a night themselves. What remained were a few scattered groups that were mainly just talking about the old days at that point.

Rick had just finished saying good night to his son, headed for his cell to relieve Beth of her babysitting duties, when he ran into Michonne. "Fancy meeting you here," he greeted her quietly, hoping that didn't sound as flirtatious as it did in his head.

Her cell was less than thirty feet from his, so they often ran into one another either in the mornings or the evenings, but he rarely said anything. His poker game obviously had him feeling himself, she surmised. "Where you headed this late at night?" She could flirt back, she figured; why the hell not.

"To bed, I suppose. The party's broken up, I'm guessin'?"

"Nothing too interesting anymore," she shrugged, glancing down to where his hand rested on his gun, as always. Ever-ready Rick Grimes. Even she put the katana down every now and then. "You had a good night," she recalled, still thinking about all those fruit snacks.

"You noticed, huh?"

"I think everybody noticed that haul. Hope you've got it locked up somewhere safe."

He narrowed his eyes at her, gauging whether that was a playful threat. "Don't be eyein' my stash, Michonne. That's for me and my kid."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she suppressed a smile that seemed to always want to sneak out when he was around. "But if you feel like sharing…"

He thought about the idea for a moment, and excused himself for a second. He carefully tiptoed into his cell, not wanting to wake up Beth, who slept in the bed above his own when she needed to, and pulled out one of the many gifts he'd been given in the past week. Most of them were small trinkets of appreciation from the others in the group, but this particular one seemed only appropriate on New Years Eve. He returned to Michonne with a mischievous glint in his beautiful blue eyes.

"You feel like drinkin'?"

She eyed the bottle of champagne and an equally playful smile spread across her gorgeous face. "Yeah…"

"Well let's get to it then." The way she answered, so confidently and impishly, it made him a little hot under the collar, but he shook it away and led her towards the tombs.

She was suddenly wary, as this was where Merle had led her before kidnapping her, and she was kicking herself for not having her katana with her. But she figured if push came to shove, she could kick Rick in the groin and make a run for it this time. She would not go out like that again.

Rick was saying words, but she couldn't quite grasp what they were as her mind raced through all her different options if he tried anything. Eventually he turned back to her, quizzically, as if he'd just asked a question.

"Huh?" was all she could muster in response.

"You okay?" He noticed the unease on her face and wasn't sure where it had come from.

She was frowning. "I'm fine."

"Is this weird for you?" he realized, watching her expression contort. He had been talking about his wife and how this was where she died, which she was probably sick of hearing at that point. "I'm sorry, I'm just trying not to be haunted by this place."

She nodded absently, knowing she had probably missed a big chunk of information, but was still unsure of herself or his intentions. "Can we go back to the cell block?" she finally requested. She just didn't like how she felt down there.

"Sure," he frowned himself, unclear on what he'd said to jolt her. "The laundry room is warm and has its own light, that's the only reason I was…"

_Fuck_, Michonne thought. Of course. This guy wasn't Merle. This is the guy that saved her life, and several others, without hesitating. Well, he'd hesitated a little with her. But in the end, Rick was probably the most decent man she'd met in a very long time. What the hell was wrong with her? "I'm sorry," she finally let out a very tense exhale. "I went a little crazy for a minute."

He smiled softly at her and regurgitated the same thing she'd told him a couple of months before. "It happens."

She took another deep breath and offered to continue following him to the laundry room. "After you, officer."

He wasn't sure what had just happened, but he followed her orders and led her through the dark hallways with his flashlight in one hand, champagne bottle in the other. Eventually, they arrived at the laundry facility, where the generators resided, as well as the washing and drying equipment, and a couple of tables where sheets and prison uniforms decorated one of the corners.

Rick took a seat on one of the empty tables, resting his head against the wall and reveling in the warmth of the room. The rest of the prison was so cold, so dank, he was relieved to have stumbled on this little corner of perfection. It was probably the one place in the apocalypse that didn't smell like death all the time. Just warm, fresh clothing.

Michonne took a tentative seat next to him, looking around at his little slice of heaven. "You come here often?"

"When I can," he opened his eyes to see hers boring into him. "Don't get a lot of free time, but sometimes, in the middle of the night, I come in here just to see if it's warm."

"This is nice," she nodded, scooting back on the table so her legs were dangling from it. "Hope you don't mind if you find me here from time to time."

"Long as you don't tell anyone else," he nodded, playing with the foil on the champagne bottle.

"Our little secret," Michonne promised. She watched his strong hands move around the bottle, trying not to imagine them wrapped around other things, and before she knew it, he and his knife had successfully uncorked the champagne. She laughed as the liquid spilled from the head and she offered to take the first sip.

He watched her lick the overflowing bottle, and his head became light from the sight, tons of wicked thoughts dancing in his mind. "Jesus," he said out loud, though he hadn't really meant to.

"He can't save us," she joked, passing him the tamed bottle.

He smirked and took a long swig from the bottle, as if it were a beer, and then handed it back to her. It had been a long time since he'd had more than a glass of wine, and the bubbly was instantly working its magic. "Thank you, Sasha."

"I'm Michonne," she scowled, looking over at him to see if he was seeing things again. He seemed lucid, so she kicked his boot. "We don't all look alike, you know."

He looked at her like she had two heads and laughed heartily. "I was thanking her for the champagne..."

Michonne let out what sounded like a snort and started to giggle uncontrollably. "I knew that."

"Did you?"

She shook her head and laughed even harder. The alcohol had clearly gotten to her, too. "Rick, if you knew all the thoughts I've had about you in the past fifteen minutes…"

His brow line furrowed, trying to figure out what that could possibly mean. "I can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

"I can't either." She took another sip of their drink and passed it to him. "I don't understand me sometimes."

He nodded and smiled ruefully, knowing all too well what she meant by that. "That's why we need other people. Otherwise, we'd have too much time to think about all the fucked up shit in our own heads."

She liked his assessment of them. Without other people to take care of, Rick would have surely gone crazy. And before she met Andrea, she was doing the same. Losing it. Having conversations with pet walkers, pretending they were still alive. She loved and hated that he knew her so well without really knowing her at all. She found solace in the fact that she didn't have to explain herself and yet, he got it. Andrea was right – it was good she found them.

"Can I ask you somethin', Rick?"

He steadied himself for something he'd be uncomfortable answering – he was uncomfortable answering pretty much everything – but figured the alcohol would will him through it. "Shoot."

"Where do you think he went? After he killed all those people?"

He knew she was referring to the Governor, and was glad she didn't say his name. He took another long sip and then closed his eyes, letting his head fall back to the wall behind him. "I dunno." His voice was like syrup, his southern drawl thick, his tone heavy. "Part of me thinks – or hopes – he went and killed himself after. But a man like that…"

"What is a man like that?"

"Exactly…"

"I've been thinkin' about going to look for him." Michonne's eyes darted over to Rick's face, waiting for anguish to cover it. Instead, he just opened his eyes, seemingly waiting for her to continue. "I know tracking him will be difficult after all this time, but I can't just wait for him to come back."

"Michonne…"

"Don't try to talk me out of this."

"I wasn't going to." He was really sleepy all of a sudden, but he wanted to have this conversation. "I don't want you out there alone, but I know there's no way I can stop you either."

"Smart man."

"Just hurry back to us, all right?"

She didn't expect for him to agree so easily, and she sure as hell didn't expect for him to make that request. He'd caught her off guard and she didn't like it. "I can't make that promise."

"Can't you?" Rick's eyes were simultaneously pleading and flirting with her.

She snatched the bottle from his clutches and avoided his gaze as she finished the contents. "We're all out."

He chuckled quietly to himself, letting his head fall to the side, studying his new friend. She was so beautiful when she wasn't glowering at everything. And even then, she fascinated him beyond comprehension. Her skin was so rich and flawless, he didn't think he'd ever seen someone with skin like that. And she had these lips, perfectly plump, hiding her immaculate smile. He loved and hated when she smiled because nothing quite made sense in the moment. It was something special, for sure.

Michonne wondered what he was thinking in his silence. The way he was leaned up against the wall, one leg hanging off the table, the other propped up in front of him so his shit was wide open, Michonne was finding him sexy as hell. And she knew it wasn't just the alcohol talking. She enjoyed watching him around the prison, walking with that cowboy swagger, saving lives and shit. But in this moment, something quite different had washed over him. She'd never seen him so relaxed. She wasn't sure if he knew how to relax, quite frankly, but there he was, tipsy, smiling, honest. She liked this side of Rick Grimes.

"I wish I'd found you all sooner."

This rare moment of candor took Rick by surprise. Intrigued, he gazed at her for a long time. "Do you now?"

"I do. I wish I knew you all better. It feels impossible trying to get to know people after they've already formed bonds."

"Really?" This was news to him. She'd been so truculent in her short time at the prison, he figured she was quite fine with cordial relationships.

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Well you know me," he offered, trying to take the punch out of his pure shock.

"I know a few things about you. I don't know you."

"And you really want to?"

She nodded. "Who were you before? Besides a cop and a dad? What did you like to do?"

He thought for a moment and could barely even remember that life anymore. "That's who I was," he chuckled to himself. "They were my life."

"Yeah, but what did you do for fun? For yourself?"

He shrugged drunkenly. "I used to hunt with my best friend every now and then." He tried to push down the thoughts of Shane that were coming to the surface before continuing. "We had our fantasy football leagues and all that. I coached Carl's soccer team the last couple of seasons before…" he trailed off into a memory, recalling how much it annoyed him that they weren't allowed to keep score. "God, my life was boring."

"It sounds very… perfect." She chose her words carefully, but she didn't exactly mean that as a compliment.

"It was far from perfect," he denied quietly, looking down. "Me and Lori weren't…" _Happy_ was the word he was searching for, but he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. Not after everything. But if the world hadn't went to shit, he was sure they would've ended up divorced before Carl graduated high school. Hell, they managed to fall apart when the world did go to shit, and they had literally nothing else. "It wasn't perfect," he assured Michonne, catching her gaze. "But I'd give anything for just one of those days back."

"Oh god, me too. Jut for a couple of hours to watch The Office," she laughed.

He smiled at the thought. When he came home late, he'd grab Carl's PS3 and watch some show or another on Netflix until he fell asleep. God, he'd taken so much for granted.

"Tonight isn't so bad though," Michonne offered softly, deliberately looking him in the eye. "I wouldn't mind a bunch of tonights."

He had to agree. He was full, he was warm, his kids were safe, and he even had a nice buzz going with some good company. This was as close as it was going to get to the old days, and he was okay with that. "Yeah, tonight's nice."

She moved so that she was next to him on the table, wanting to rest her head against the wall as well. Maybe it actually was the alcohol talking in this case, but she ended up resting her head on his shoulder instead. She took in his scent with a contented sigh. He smelled of soap and champagne – things that sounded pre-apocalypse. It made her feel like maybe life at this prison wouldn't be so bad. "Happy New Year, Rick," she whispered softly.

He rested his hand on her knee, thankful for her presence, for her touch. Thankful for everything. "Happy New Year, Michonne."


	5. sparks fly out

_**A/N: So, I'm a little bit speechless, because I really didn't expect to get any reviews! But I appreciate you guys' kind words so, so much. I thought I'd throw in another update before I got too busy this week. By the way, I'm pretty sure this is going to turn to a Rated M, lemony sort of thing, so you may wanna bow out now if that's not your deal. Otherwise, thank you much, and I hope you enjoy! -Ash**_

**5: sparks fly out**

The winter continued to be good to the people at the prison. The weather throughout January had been surprisingly bearable, even unseasonably warm some days, which had everyone in fairly good spirits. Everyone except for Rick and Carl, it seemed.

Michonne made good on her promise to search for The Governor, and while Rick didn't like one of his people going out there alone, he knew it was probably in everyone's best interests. Knowing Michonne had spent a lot of time out there alone before meeting Andrea was the only thing that calmed his fears in the beginning. But then, the days turned into weeks turned into a month, and she'd yet to return. It was eating away at him.

Even worse, Carl seemed to have already decided that she wasn't going to make it back, and his grief was palpable. He spent most of his nights in her cell, halfway wishing he could will her back if he just stayed there waiting long enough. But as the wait got longer, the less he believed that to be true.

"Dad?" It was the middle of the night, and he knew his father was fast asleep, but he didn't want to delay what he had to say any longer. "Are you up?"

Rick popped up from his sleep, always ready to take on some threat or another, frowning at his son in confusion and tiredness. "Carl? Everything okay?"

"Yes," he made sure to answer reassuringly. He took the few steps from the edge of Rick's cell to his bed, and sat down softly, being careful not to wake his sister. "I mean, everything's not okay, but there's no imminent danger right now."

"Okay…" Rick swung his feet from the bed and rested them on the floor so that he and his son were sitting side by side. "What's going on then?"

"I think we should go look for her," he proclaimed confidently.

The conviction in his son's voice told Rick he was in for a knock-down-drag-out, and he let out a sigh. He didn't have this fight in him. "Carl…"

"She could be out there, hurt, and no one is there to help," he whispered harshly. "We have to do something."

Rick would have been lying if he said the idea hadn't crossed his mind on a daily basis. But he couldn't leave his kids for a mission like this, and he most certainly couldn't lead his kid out there. He considered asking Glenn and Daryl to look for her, but what would he say? _She went that way a month ago, good luck? _It was a fool's errand. "Carl, there's no way for us to even begin to start looking."

"That's bullshit," Carl returned, matter-of-factly. "If anyone else were out there, you would've gone looking two weeks ago."

That may have been true, but Michonne wasn't everybody. He had more trust in her instincts than he did his own. Another sigh escaped his lips as he searched his baby boy for any sign of wavering. There was none. "If she's not back by the end of the week, I will go myself," he promised.

"That's three more days. She could be dying."

Rick couldn't afford to think that way, so he didn't. "That's my offer."

"But Dad-."

"Carl, I care about Michonne just as much as you do. But I've got other people to think about," he reminded him. "You and Judith are my top priority, and I can't just run off blindly into the night looking for her."

Carl's eyes darted to the floor, thinking of how that was exactly what Michonne did. She left in the middle of the night, offering no reassurance as to when she would be back, or even if, despite him begging for it. He understood that she had to do what she had to do, and he was doing his best not to be mad at her for it, so he had to respect the same in his father. "All right," he nodded. "End of the week."

"You have my word."

Carl smiled a bit, knowing that if his father said it, he meant it. A Grimes' word was bond.

* * *

Carol and Rick had spent a large portion of the morning dispatching walkers at the fences. It was a disgusting job, but everyone had jobs to do, and this was one of them. With the weather being warmer than usual, the buildup was a little worse than it had been in recent weeks, but even so, it was something that only had to be done at the beginning and end of the day to keep things at bay.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Carol started, squinting from the sun, "but this is starting to feel normal."

Rick looked over to her as the last walker dropped in front of him. Indeed, waking up to stick a crowbar in an undead corpse's face was the new normal for them. "It could be a hell of a lot worse."

Noting his somber tone, she glanced at him for a long minute. "You okay, Rick?"

"Yeah," he sighed heavily, as if something were on his mind. "I'm all right."

He'd had such a turbulent few months, she didn't want to push him into a conversation he didn't want to have. But she had also noticed a lightness to him over the 'holiday,' and hated to see it slip away the way it had over the past month. "Rick…" She paused in order to choose her words carefully. "You've done a lot for me in the last year, and I don't know if I've ever thanked you for it, or even acknowledged you for it. But I appreciate you. And I'm here if… there's anything you need to get off your chest."

He nodded thoughtfully at her words, but didn't respond directly to them. "I'm gonna get the truck so we can get these bodies."

Carol accepted that he didn't have anything to get off his chest and headed towards the gates to wait for him.

Rick had successfully retrieved the group's F-150 and was heading towards the gates when he noted a mysterious grey car approach the prison. Carol had noticed the same and quickly motioned to close the entrance she'd just unlocked. Rick wasted no time getting to Carol and making sure she was safely inside the truck before the strange Dodge Charger could open fire or something equally as threatening.

Keenly aware of his surroundings, Rick's hand rested on his Colt Python, ready to kill, if needed, when both car doors opened. He thought he might have been having another one of his visions when he saw Michonne step out of the driver's side. A twenty-something blond-ish guy accompanied her, his hands already raised in surrender.

Confused, Carol and Rick retreated from their own car to greet the duo.

"Michonne?" Carol was the first to say, confirming for Rick that he was not losing it again. "Oh my god!"

Rick let out a huge sigh of relief, almost shaky in its execution. He had really started to believe he was never going to see her again, and there she was. His emotions began to swirl and he felt himself frowning and smiling at the same time. He was unlocking the gates and staring at her while she and Carol spoke words that sounded foreign to him in his haze.

"Is it all right if we let him in?" Carol was asking him.

"He saved my life," Michonne added, making a case for him.

Assuming they were referring to the stranger, Rick could only nod. "Yeah… we'll… come on in."

The stranger followed Carol to the sidelines so that Michonne could head in with their new addition to the prison's fleet of cars. And despite her aching bones and weary spirit, she made sure to wait for the rest to join her in the courtyard. She hadn't gotten a chance to properly greet her friends, and she wanted nothing more than a giant hug from them at that point.

She watched Rick saunter up the small hill that separated them, an odd smile planted on his handsome face. She wasn't sure she'd see that face again, and it inspired her own little grin.

When they were finally face to face, he planted one foot in front of the other, as he often did when he was challenging someone, and stared at the gravelly ground. "Jesus Christ," he mumbled, coming to the realization that he'd been worried sick about her. "Where the fuck have you been?"

That hadn't been the welcome she was anticipating. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it definitely hadn't been that, and she wasn't entirely sure how to respond. "I-."

"Rick!" Her thoughts had thankfully been interrupted by Carol, who took Michonne into a tight embrace. "Ignore him, he's in one of his moods."

_That much was clear_, she thought.

"It's so good to see you. We weren't sure you'd come back to us."

Michonne blinked back tears, unsure of that very same thing. She'd been through a lot in the four weeks she'd been gone, and nothing gave her more peace than seeing these people again. "Everybody okay?" she returned awkwardly, doing her best to avoid the fact that Rick was glaring at her.

"We're fine," Carol promised, giving her one last squeeze. "Got a lot of cleaning done. This place is starting to look like somewhere we can live."

Michonne inwardly smiled at the idea and then motioned for her new friend to join them. "Carol, this is Zack. I didn't promise him he could stay, but I did tell him he could make his case and at least get a lukewarm shower."

"He can stay," Rick announced from where he stood, still glowering at everything. "He saved you, he can stay."

Michonne narrowed her eyes at Rick, unsure of what to think at that moment. He seemed to be simultaneously mad and glad that she was back.

"I appreciate that, sir," Zack offered to Rick. "Lost my sister a couple of weeks back to one of those things and I wasn't sure what I was going to do until Michonne showed up."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Rick returned genuinely, looking him in the eye. "We try to take in who we can, all we ask is that you pull your weight. I can't promise it's always gonna be safe, but we do our best."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm Rick." He offered his hand to the young man and then directed Carol to show him inside. "Carol, there are plenty of cells in D, if you don't mind getting him some clean sheets."

Carol could tell that Rick must have been itching to speak with Michonne privately, so she immediately obliged. "Sure, Rick. Zack, you can follow me."

Michonne grabbed her katana from the backseat of the Charger, prepared to head in behind them, but Rick was sure to stop her. "A month, Michonne?" His piercing stare seemed to go through her as he waited for an answer.

"I don't answer to you," she reminded him.

"Yeah, I know. You don't answer to anybody. But when you have people that care about you, you can't run off for a month and let us wonder if you're alive or dead. It ain't right."

"You think I wanted to be gone that long?"

"I don't know what you wanted, seeing how you disappeared in the middle of the night." His words were thick with impatience. "Thanks for saying goodbye, by the way."

"I don't like goodbyes."

"Yeah, well I don't like my kid waiting up every night, hoping that'll be the night you come home."

"Don't try to guilt trip me," she sighed, turning back towards the prison. Truth was, she hadn't exactly thought about how her disappearance would make Carl feel, and now, she felt like shit. "I'm doing this for us." The way she said it made it sound like she meant for the two of them, when really, she meant everyone at the prison. "For all of us," she appended.

"Make no mistake, I understand why you're out there, Michonne. I get it. I appreciate it. But you can't do that again."

"I came back, didn't I?"

"You did." His tone softened a smidge when he came to accept that fact. "Yes. You came back."

"And I know you won't believe it, but I didn't mean to be gone this long. It was just… a lot. And… I came back."

"You gotta promise me this time…" He lowered his head and moved closer to her, his entire demeanor shifting back to the soft-hearted Rick she had come to know and love. "Next time you go out there, you can't be gone longer than two weeks."

"Well, well," a voice erupted into their moment, "look what the cat dragged in." Daryl had made his way outside, wrapped in his poncho, preparing to complete his mid-morning perimeter check, when he caught sight of Michonne, finally back in the flesh.

"Better late than never," she smiled at him, happier than she imagined she could be to see his face.

"I'm just glad I don't have to see this one sulking and shit anymore," he playfully referred to Rick. "Any luck?"

She knew he was referring to her search for The Governor. "I got a couple of leads, but my car broke down and didn't have enough gas or food to follow them yet. Will soon, though."

Rick could feel himself getting annoyed with the subject, and he wasn't going to let her go before she made him this promise. "Hey," he demanded her gaze. "Two weeks."

She was hesitant to make any promises. Especially to someone she knew expected her to keep them. But maybe he was right. They didn't have any phones, it's not like she could check in with them to say, _Hey, still alive. _ They just had to wait until she reappeared, and that wasn't fair. If someone did that to her, she would've chopped off one of their limbs by now. She wasn't happy about it, but she nodded slowly in a hesitant agreement. "Two weeks."

* * *

After her argument with Rick, Michonne finally headed inside with a very focused mission to find Carl. If she were being honest, Rick's words stung, hating that she hadn't been more considerate of the kid and his feelings. He'd been through so much shit, the last thing she ever wanted to do was compound that. She was there to lighten the burden, not worsen it.

She eventually found him in her cell, fast asleep, hugging one of his many handheld Nintendo games and his beloved hat. He looked so peaceful and childlike, she wished she had her camera on hand to capture the moment.

She laid her katana on her desk and was prepared to step back out of the room when he began to stir. Light sleeper like his dad, it seemed. "Michonne? Is that really you?"

The hopefulness in his voice ate away at her. Rick wasn't exaggerating when he said that her leaving had affected Carl. "It's me," she grinned, turning back to him. "Don't count me out yet."

He couldn't believe the relief that washed over him as his view came into focus. It was really her. She was really back. "Holy crap, I didn't think I'd ever see you again," he sighed, pulling himself out of her bed to give her a hug. "Please don't ever leave that long again."

His little display of affection was really clawing at her heart. She had been trying so hard to keep it protected, keep her emotions in check, but Carl was coming dangerously close to rendering all of that pointless. She was starting to love this kid. "Hey, you don't have to worry about me," she whispered, stroking the top of his hair. "I'm right here."

"I just… wasn't sure…" His big blue eyes pleaded with her for a promise.

"I promised your dad I wouldn't leave for more than two weeks, and I'm making you that same promise, okay?"

"My dad was gonna go looking for you if you weren't back by Friday."

She innately frowned at the idea of Rick, or anyone, coming after her, but after a moment of thought, she should have known not to expect anything less. This is the same guy that went guns blazing into Woodbury to save Glenn and Maggie without a second thought. Of course he would go looking for her. She hated the thought. She let out a shaky sigh and looked Carl square in the eye. "It won't happen again."

Meanwhile, Carol had retreated to the library, where she had plans to meet with Sasha, Maggie and Hershel about the next supply run. They would relay their needs to Rick, and he would decide who to take with him. They had a pretty good system in place, and Carol was always glad to have a few minutes of gossip time with the girls before Hershel inevitably hobbled into the meeting after the three of them.

On this occasion, she was getting the ladies up to speed on Michonne's grand return to the prison. "He was _pissed_," she spoke quietly, looking each of her comrades in the eye. "He was yelling at her, he even cursed at her. It was like when they first met."

"Rick is always yelling at someone," Sasha shrugged. "That's why we love him. I'm just surprised Michonne didn't knife him."

"That's what's most shocking to me too," Maggie injected. "Before she left, I asked her if she was sure she had enough food, she almost bit my head off. Her not challengin' Rick is… weird."

"I was shocked myself. If it were any other two people, I would've thought something had happened between them," Carol pondered out loud.

"Happened like what?" Sasha's eyes narrowed at Carol's statement.

"You're smart, Sasha. I'm pretty sure you can infer what I mean."

"Between Rick? And Michonne?"

"I know," Carol agreed with her incredulity, "but the tension between them… you could've cut it with a knife."

"But… sexual tension? Really?"

"I don't know if that's what's happening here, I don't know what to call it, but it was overt; almost uncomfortable. I sent Daryl out there just to see if I was imagining things and he said he saw it, too."

"Now that you mention it," Maggie was coming to a realization, "I mean, I don't know if this means anything, but… the night we had game night in the cafeteria? Beth said Rick didn't come back to his cell for hours after everyone was in bed. And I know Michonne wasn't in her cell when I went to return the cards, and that was well after lights went out…"

"Well then…"

"Aww shit," Sasha conceded to all the evidence. "I gotta admit, I did not see that one coming."

"You weren't here when Michonne first came to the prison. Sparks were flying everywhere," Carol recalled. It was the same day Daryl had saved her from the tombs, and she didn't know who the stranger was that Rick was being so hostile towards, but she wouldn't have been surprised if they were at each other's throats for a while to come. She found herself smirking at the notion now.

"You ladies are somethin' else," Hershel proclaimed, entering the room with a knowing grin on his face.

"Glad you could join us, Daddy," Maggie smiled back, pulling out a chair for him.

"I'm not so sure you are," he joked, carefully taking a seat beside his oldest daughter.

Sasha loved how soothing his accent was to her. He made her feel like everything was just fine. "Did you hear us in here gossiping, Mr. Greene?"

"I did. And I'll tell you this – I'm not surprised at all."

"Why's that?" Carol smiled at him, pouring him a cup of water from her bottle.

"Let's just say, you aren't the only one that's noticed the sparks flyin'."

* * *

Later that night, after Rick had completed his duties for the day and put his kids to bed, he decided that he probably needed to apologize to Michonne. He had been worried sick, which had turned to frustration, which had turned to anger when she finally came back to him. To them. But he had been rude, and that wasn't the way she deserved to be welcomed home.

"Michonne?" Rick softly knocked on the wall beside her cell, waiting for a reply.

"Just a minute."

He could see her silhouette behind the sheet that covered her door, and he could tell she was getting dressed for bed. He tried to look away, but couldn't, as creepy as it was. She had pulled her bra off, and it looked like she was stepping out of her panties as well, creating an image in Rick's mind that he wouldn't easily forget. Even behind cover, he could tell her body was perfect. A good, round handful of tits and the most shapely, rotund ass he'd ever seen. He imagined it jiggling ever so slightly as she moved. In that moment, he knew there was a God, and he hoped He was forgiving.

She covered herself with a pair of flannel pajama pants and a tshirt before allowing him in. "Come in."

He entered her quarters hesitantly, unsure that he'd be able to form coherent words knowing that only a small layer of cotton separated her naked body from him. But he pushed those thoughts to the side to say what he had to say. "Michonne… I, umm… owe you an apology for this morning."

"You don't owe me anything," she returned quietly, pulling her hair into a ponytail. It felt so good to be clean, to be back in her own space, in the relative warmth of her little cell. "You were right."

"Maybe I was," he offered with raised eyebrows, "but I didn't have to say it the way I did. I took my anger out on you, and it wasn't right."

She nodded, silently accepting his apology. She knew it must have taken a lot for him to admit this. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry too."

"You don't have to apologize. You're trying to avenge your friend's death. Our friend's death," he corrected himself in a whisper. "And protect us. You don't need to feel bad about that."

"I meant it when I said I wouldn't be gone more than two weeks."

He nodded this time, his gaze focused on the floor. On her bare feet. They looked like they had seen a battle or two, to say the least. _At least every part of her isn't perfect,_ he thought to himself with a small smile. "That's good to know."

She caught his smile and it made her happy. She didn't want to cause him or his son any more strife. "I'll be here for a few days before I go back out. Get myself some rest."

"That's probably a good idea…"

A silence had enveloped them and Michonne felt herself becoming fidgety in its wake. Rick made her feel nervous, she realized, though she had yet to pinpoint why. She would have been lying if she said she weren't intrigued by him. She knew firsthand he could be downright hostile when he wanted to be. But he was also very, very loving, and she saw that in how fiercely protective he was of, not only his kids, but the entire group. Of her. Now, he'd gotten her to open up, he'd gotten her drunk, and he'd gotten her to make a promise – all things she had long since given up doing. Who was this guy? And who was she when she was with him?

"I know you only yelled at me because you care." She watched him nod and she could feel his gaze taking in her entire body. She wasn't even sure if he actually heard what she said.

"I do," he eventually returned quietly.

Since he was so openly admiring her, she did the same. She always found something sexy about a bowlegged man, but a bowlegged man in cowboy boots was one thing she had never prepared herself for. She had always admired his gait, but even his stance was making her stomach do weird little back-flips. And truthfully, it had been too long since she had gotten laid, and there was a high likelihood she would jump him right then and there if he stood there any longer. "Good night, Rick."

Her eyes had shifted to match his own hungry stare, and he was instantly picking up what she was putting down. He needed to go. "Night, Michonne."


	6. team player

_**A/N: Hi, guys! Can I just say, I love hearing from you guys so much. I wasn't sure if anyone would read this, and I've just been so pleasantly surprised to get feedback! It's super encouraging, I've written like two more chapters since I posted the last one lol. So I wanted to give you this short and somewhat sweet one now, just to say, "I appreciate you," and I promise to update again this weekend. Thank you again! -Ash**_

**6: team player**

The next morning, Michonne awoke early, planning to raid the prison cafeteria before anyone else and then go for a light jog around the grounds. She got dressed in record time and headed for the eatery only to find she would not be eating alone.

"Hey," Daryl grumbled in her direction as he crumbled crackers into a bowl. He had his crossbow sitting next to him, but moved it so that she could sit.

"Good morning," she answered as lightly as she could, glad to see some sun peeking through the prison windows.

"Just finished my watch, decided to eat somethin' before gettin' some shut eye."

She nodded, strolling around the kitchen to prepare herself some cereal. "Any powdered milk left?"

"Nah, the kids used the last of it couple of weeks ago."

She poured her stale cereal into a bowl and sat down next to her companion. "Should've known that wouldn't last long. But shit, I'm so glad to be back, I don't even care."

He, like Rick, had been more than a little worried when she took so long to return to the prison. He didn't have the relationship with her that Rick had, so he wasn't about to yell at her about it, but he was quite curious about the series of events that kept her away for a month. He watched her start on her food before deciding to ask, "What happened out there?"

She was silent for a long time. She stopped eating and just stared into the distance as she recalled the happenings of the prior month. "I talked to a few people that claimed to know where he was, but they were all dead ends," she frowned. "All the good leads came too late."

She was avoiding the real question Daryl was asking and he knew it. "Yeah, but what _happened?_ Why were you gone so long? How'd you find Zack?"

"Car broke down," she finally glanced at him. "I ended up near Columbus the first week, kept getting pushed further out, trying to find a car with enough gas and a route that wasn't all blocked up. At some point, I almost gave up," she revealed quietly. "Was just gonna make a new life down there and hope y'all didn't worry about me." She watched Daryl for a reaction, but he was just listening intently. No judgment. So she went on. "After another ten days or so, I was out of food, so I found a gas station that had a few old snacks left, and a few more walkers than I bargained for. Zack had been holed up in this library next door, so he helped me out. Or distracted them at least - he's not too good with a gun yet. But we got out of there. Soon as I realized he had a car with some gas in it, I knew he was my shot at getting back here. Thank god he was cooperative, I didn't wanna have to kill him. But I would have... To get back to... this place."

Daryl was biting his bottom lip as she finished her tale. It gave him some form of relief to know that she would've done anything to come back to the prison. "I'm glad you found him then," he announced somberly. "Seems like a good kid too."

"I hope so. I didn't wanna bring back any trouble. Story about his sister seemed legit..."

Daryl nodded. "Rick's gonna let him stay."

Her eyes flitted up at the mention of Rick's name. She hated the innate reaction she had to him, but there it was, betraying the shit out of her. She watched as Daryl began to get up, presumably heading off to bed. "Daryl," she stopped him briefly, needing an answer to a question that had been burning at her.

"Yup?"

"Were you serious when you said he'd been sulking while I was gone?"

"Who, Rick?" He stared down at her with a smirk playing across his face. "He was a fuckin' wreck."

Rick had been a wreck since the very day she met him, so she wasn't sure exactly what that meant.

"And not in the way he was about Lori," he appended, seeming to have read her mind. "He's been better for a while now with that. Since you got here, really..."

Michonne frowned at the idea that she had anything to do with Rick's recovery. All she ever did was assure him that he wasn't crazy. But then, that could be a great help, she supposed. She could've used it a few times herself on the road the year before. A small smile began to creep across her gorgeous, dark face. "You think so?"

"I know it. But then you left, and I could tell exactly when he started to think you might not come back. He stopped coming to eat, he was a little harsher with the kid, kept more to himself. I think he only spoke to Lil' Asskicker some days. It was gettin' rough."

She wasn't sure why she was surprised by this information, he probably would've reacted the same if any of his group had disappeared into the wild. But a part of her liked to think that this response was reserved solely for her. "It won't happen again," she finally assured Daryl, just as she had for Carl and Rick.

"I don't mean to make you feel bad for leavin'. It's just... hard."

She nodded and watched him leave himself, deciding to put off her jog once she finished eating. Instead, she would pay a visit to the Grimes family and see what they were up to.

A few minutes later, she found herself in Carl's cell, where Rick had baby Judith, and was telling his son what he needed him to do for the day.

"Don't let me interrupt," she grinned, enjoying that they still had time as a family in this weird, fucked up world.

"Sasha gave me the shopping list last night, so I'll be going on a run probably tomorrow or the next day," he was saying. "But I'll be here the rest of the day if you need anything."

Carl nodded, somewhat hating that he had chores in the apocalypse. But he understood that everyone had jobs to do. And as far as jobs, doing perimeter watch like the rest of the adults wasn't such a bad one. The other kids had to help out in the kitchen or bathrooms. Meanwhile, he got to wield his gun and take care of the group. "Michonne, are you going on the run?"

"Hadn't planned on it." She glanced at Rick for a co-sign, even though she already knew he wouldn't want her to go. "After all, someone has to stay here with you."

Carl could hardly contain the fact that this excited him. Though he tried. "Really?"

"Well yeah. Your dad can't be two places at once."

Rick smiled genuinely at her unspoken offer to watch his kids while he was gone. Even if this was merely her way of apologizing for being gone so long, he appreciated that she was being a team player. And not only for the entire prison, but for him, for his family. He mouthed a silent _Thank You_ to Michonne and then encouraged Carl to get started. "You oughta eat somethin' before your shift," he told the kid.

"You're not coming?" he asked both his father and his friend.

"I already ate," she shrugged teasingly. "Early bird and all that..."

"I'll be in in a minute," Rick promised with a nod. "Go on."

He felt like he was being pushed out of his own cell, but he was so glad to have some responsibility, he didn't really care. "See you later?" he asked Michonne.

"Indeed, you will, sheriff." She smiled and tapped his hat, watching him leave before turning to the real sheriff in town. She noticed he seemed almost happy standing there. "You're in a merry mood today."

He answered her observation with only a smile and revisited her promise to watch his kids. "I don't know how good you are with babies, but Beth can take Judith if it's too much."

She considered this offer seriously, not sure if she was ready to spend an entire length of a run taking care of an infant. She never thought she'd see a baby again, much less care for one, after everything that had happened. And while she was wiling to put aside those fears for the sake of helping Rick, if she were to be completely honest, the idea was scaring the shit out of her. Just seeing Rick with Judith sometimes took her breath away, but holding a baby, taking care of one again was an entirely different matter.

"Michonne?" Rick called out to her, seeing her lost in thought.

"That's fine, Beth can take her," she finally returned quietly.

He recognized the shift in her emotions and considered prodding her to spill whatever was on her mind, but decided against it. Whatever it was, he hoped she would share if and when she was ready. "Okay then. Carl's not too much trouble himself, just make sure he eats. Does his chores. Washes his ass," Rick chuckled. "He knows all these things already."

Michonne nodded, watching Judith begin to fuss in her father's arms. "I'll try and keep him entertained, too."

Rick nodded himself and offered his gratitude once again. "I appreciate it."

"You don't have to thank me every time I interact with Carl. He's my friend, this isn't an obligation."

"I know, I know. But I'd be remiss if I didn't."

"How long you think you'll be gone?"

"It's a routine supply run, I hope not more than a couple days," he rationalized for himself and for Michonne. "I'm thinkin' I don't need more than one person, maybe Sasha."

Michonne felt something odd bubbling inside her at the mention of Sasha's name. The idea of Rick on the road with just her? It gave her a weird feeling, something akin to... jealousy? That couldn't possibly have been what was happening, could it? "You think she's enough?" she wondered coolly.

"I'll find out, I guess. But I think so. She's tough and she's smart."

She couldn't disagree with that.

"Plus, she and Carol are the ones that have really assessed the needs of this place, if she sees anything while we're out, she'll know to get it."

He had obviously made up his mind about it, so she didn't try to dissuade him, but she hated the way she felt about it. She felt immature, and even worse, insecure. She had never considered herself petty, and now, here she was, resenting this run for no good reason. This was obviously for the good of the group, but the only thoughts that crossed her mind were that they would return in two days and Sasha would be his new right hand woman. Up until then, Michonne had quietly claimed that title and she liked it. This other woman swooping in, who was just as capable, and probably more mentally stable, was threatening that, and Michonne did not like it one bit.

"Just hurry back to us, all right?" she requested, recalling that he said the same when she left on her mission to find The Governor.

He smiled at her request and squeezed her shoulder as he walked by. It was the first time he'd touched her since she'd returned, and it sent shock waves through her system. She remembered when she told him not to ever touch her again. Now, that was all she wanted him to do.

What the hell was happening?


	7. feels like you're dyin'

**7: feels like you're dyin'**

It was late. It had to be nearing 3:00 AM, Rick could tell without looking at his watch. He typically tried to get all the rest he could before a run, but he'd spent most of the three hours he'd been in bed tossing and turning. This sleep was proving fruitless. If nothing else, he figured a stroll around the prison would help his restlessness.

He pulled baby Judith from her crib, careful not to wake her, and brought her next door to Carl's cell. He'd been insistent that he should also have a crib that Judith could use, and for nights like this, Rick was thankful. If no one else, he always knew he could trust his son to take care of her.

Once she was settled, he puttered down the halls of cellblock C, headed for the tombs. He tried to shake his agitation away, stretching his neck muscles as he walked, but he still felt wide awake. He had been sleeping well for weeks now, and even his days had been fairly tame, considering everything, so he really hated this setback. But it had been laundry day, so he hoped a few minutes in the warmth of the laundry room would help.

He walked into his secret sanctuary, jolted to see Michonne sitting in his favorite spot.

"Hey, stranger," she smiled when he entered.

He would've been lying if he said he were disappointed to see her. It was quite the pleasant surprise, in fact. He'd really missed seeing her face around the prison while she was gone. "Hey yourself." He stalked over to where she sat, and put on a playful but confrontational stance. "You're in my spot."

She searched the general vicinity and then looked at him with confidence in her stare. "I don't see your name on it."

He smirked and nodded as he took a seat next to her. "That's how you wanna play it. Okay." She smiled and offered him his seat, but he declined. "Nah, I'm just messin' with you. It's nice to see you down here."

"Yeah?"

"Nice to have some company," he shrugged.

"Were you cold?"

"Couldn't sleep."

She nodded.

"You were cold?" he wondered out loud. He didn't think she was bothered by anything, much less the climate, but he noticed she was wearing long johns.

"It's freezing, Rick."

Indeed, the unseasonable warmth had come to an end, and winter was rearing its ugly head. "It's February, you know."

"I do know that," she playfully knocked his knee with her own. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"There are some extra fleece blankets in that closet," he nodded towards what they had dubbed as the linen closet, situated against the wall adjacent to them. "May need washing, but you're welcome to 'em."

"I'll keep that in mind." The warmth of the room and Rick's presence was enough for her at the moment. She scooted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder – she seemed to like it there for some reason. It was like his shoulder was made specifically for her. "This is good."

He looked down, seeing her dreadlocks fall over his shoulder, and smiled to himself. She radiated warmth. He hadn't realized how cold he was until she nestled next to him. "It is." He let his arm encircle her slim waist, resting his hand on her hip.

"I could sleep just like this," she sighed softly. "All the time."

He didn't know about all that, but their closeness was definitely soothing. Other than his kids, he couldn't remember the last time he had human contact with someone. He and Lori had fallen apart the previous winter, so it'd probably been close to a year since he'd held a woman in a way that wasn't related to imminent danger.

"You wouldn't wanna lay down?" he eventually chuckled softly.

"Nope. This is good. Just like this."

He had to admit, sleep was starting to creep up on him. Maybe he could get a few quality hours of rest after all. He'd slept in much more awkward positions before, anyway. He let his head rest against the concrete wall behind him and started to doze off.

"Rick?" she said his name so quietly, it could barely be heard over the hum of the generator.

"Yeah?" he answered tiredly, hoarsely.

"You asleep?"

"No…"

She wasn't sure what had come over her – maybe it was his scent, or the way his hand felt on her body, or maybe it was just being exhausted of extreme loneliness – but she wanted to take advantage of the moment. They were alone, in the middle of the night, in a warm room. And he was about to go on a run the next morning, so she couldn't be sure she'd have this chance again. She rested her hand on his thigh, her fingers almost grazing his crotch, and waited for a response.

Noticing this action of hers, he wondered himself, "Are you asleep?"

"No," she chuckled lightly. Sexily.

He wasn't sure what to do. It seemed like a pretty clear signal that she wanted something, but on the off chance he was misreading her, things could go really awry. He'd had many thoughts of moments like this with Michonne, mostly just flashes of the two of them in inappropriate situations, but he always shook them away, knowing they would never happen. Thinking himself a shitty person for lusting after Michonne while still mourning his wife.

Or was he still in mourning over Lori? He wasn't even sure anymore. He felt so fulfilled sometimes, he didn't know what to think. And should he feel guilty for being happy? Relatively speaking, anyway.

He just didn't know. All these thoughts were swirling around in his head while Michonne's hand was centimeters from his dick, waiting for him to make a move. He didn't know why so many questions were trying to distract him, but he decided to ignore them. They'd still be there in the morning, along with his guilt, if he wanted it.

He looked down, feeling his eyes cloud with hunger for the woman beside him and he gave her a nod towards his side of the table, signaling that she was welcome to hop on top of him.

She did so in one swift, catlike move, much like everything she did, straddling him at his waist. "I thought you were gonna leave me hangin'," she smirked, staring down at his lips. He had beautiful lips, she noticed a long time ago, and she couldn't wait to taste them.

"I would never…" He obviously felt the same, because he barely got his words out before pulling her in for a kiss. Her luscious lips covered his in an instant, and he felt himself excited by their fullness and their warmth. His tongue wasted no time finding hers, and soon they were making out like two horny teenagers. It was sloppy in its urgency, which only served to turn both of them on even more.

Michonne could feel Rick harden through his jeans as their contact went on, making her smile against his mouth. She couldn't wait to get him inside her – it had literally been years since she'd felt anything besides a couple of fingers, and that shit had long since gotten old.

"What are you smiling at?" he asked as he squeezed her ass, then trailed kisses along her face and down to her neck. Her skin was so soft, and she smelled so good, like honey and vanilla. He could've done this forever.

"You," was all she responded with, too busy enjoying his kisses to say anything else. His tongue against her skin was the equivalent to heaven, she imagined.

His hands made their way up her shirt, where her nipples were already hard for him. He played with her supple mounds with one hand and pulled off her top entirely with the other so he could admire her body in all its beauty. It was better than what he imagined, so soft and inviting. His lips were around her nipples before she knew it, sucking, biting, teasing her in the most wonderful way. She felt her whole body clenching at the pleasure and was already grinding against him in anticipation.

Her fingers slipped beneath his own long john shirt, feeling the warm skin of his torso underneath. His muscles contracted as he leaned into her, still kissing her chest, and she delighted at the feel of his strong, lean abdomen. She pulled his shirt off altogether and began to kiss along his neck and shoulders.

As if in synch, the two of them started at one another's pants simultaneously. She fumbled to unbutton his jeans, while he gripped at the elastic of her pajama pants, sliding them slowly off of her ass until they stopped. "You're gonna have to stand up," he directed in a husky whisper.

She pulled herself up to stand on the table, stepping gracefully out of her pants and underwear, left wearing only her gold 'M' necklace. He looked up, admiring her perpetual nakedness towering above him. She was so flawless, he couldn't help but smile at the sight. "Fuck," he swallowed hard, in disbelief that she was his for the night.

"I thought that's what we were doing," she smirked down at him.

He hurriedly kicked his jeans and boxers off and laid flat on the table so that she could get on top of him. She was the one in control here, and he knew it. Liked it, even. Especially when she eyed the length of his dick with what appeared to be pleasant approval, licking her lips at the view.

He held out a hand to help her down, as if she were stepping onto a wild ride. And indeed, she was. Accepting his assistance, she straddled him again, positioning herself over his awaiting cock, both of them gasping at the sensation of him inside her. She was wet and tight, he was thick and hard, the absolute perfect combination. She had almost forgotten how good this felt, how much she liked sex in the previous world. He had forgotten how much fun sex was – it wasn't just some chore you were obligated to once a week because you were married. It was a source of pleasure, it was a release, it was to be enjoyed.

As Michonne became more comfortable with the feeling of him, she began to grind her hips in a circular motion, pulling him deeper as she moved. "Fuck," was all that came out as she tried to keep her moans to herself.

He wanted to say something smart in reply, but couldn't. She felt so fucking good, all he could do was breathe and try not to come too quickly. His hands squeezed her juicy ass, while his gaze focused on her breasts, jiggling with every motion. If he died right then and there, he would've been okay with that.

She began to move a little bit faster, her breath hitching as the pleasure became unbearable. He sat up to meet her gaze, and their chests crashed and heaved against each other as they found a new rhythm. His lips found her neck again, his hips thrusting into her, his left hand wrapped around her waist while the other played with her hair. Michonne wasn't sure how much more she could take. It was becoming hot, their bodies and their breathing the only sound in the room.

"Yes, Daddy," escaped her lips in a moan and she had to catch herself before she said anything more than that.

But her pet name only encouraged Rick, and he smiled as he slipped his fingers between her thighs. The penetration had been more than enough for her, but he was going to leave her begging for mercy, if he could help it.

"Shit," she hissed as she felt his fingers against her clit. Resistance was futile. A smattering of incoherent words came out of her mouth as she found herself shuddering in ecstasy, all of her walls clenching around Rick and his dick. She stayed with him so he could finish, but she just wanted to fall over, in a pile of happiness.

"You good?" he asked breathlessly, even though he knew the answer. He'd felt her orgasm, maybe even more than once, but he wanted to make sure.

She nodded through jagged breaths, willing him to come for her. And that, he did. With a few more haphazard thrusts, she felt a warmness fill her insides, and she knew he was good, too.

Spent, he rested his back against the wall and pulled her against his chest, rubbing her back with one hand while they both resumed normal breathing patterns. A sleepy smirk formed on his face when he realized what they had just done.

Michonne nuzzled into the crevice between his neck and shoulder, again, feeling like she belonged there. He was still inside her, they were uncomfortably stuck together by sweat, and still, she couldn't have imagined any place better. She would have been happy to die right then and there.


	8. if we're being honest

**8: if we're being honest**

The next morning, Rick awoke to the sound of a clanging cell door. The noise knocked him from a pleasant dream and startled him into sitting up straight. Frowning, he found Sasha standing in front of him with a matching glare.

"Sasha? What's wrong?"

"Did you not say we were leaving at eight?" she demanded, her arms crossed over her chest solemnly.

Rick felt drunk, for some reason. He wasn't sure how he ended up in his cell after his night with Michonne, and was starting to wonder if it hadn't been some cruel dream.

"Rick?"

"Huh?"

"Are you okay?" Her tone softened only slightly when she realized he seemed inordinately confused.

He rubbed his face, noting that he smelled of Michonne; his lips still tasted like her, and he knew the night before had been real. "I'm fine," he finally smirked to himself. "I'm sorry, I didn't sleep well last night."

"You wanna wait 'til tomorrow?" Sasha quirked an eyebrow. "We would be fine…"

"Nah, no need to waste a whole day." Plus, the sooner he could get out there and get back, the better. "Just gimme an hour to get ready?"

Sasha rolled her eyes, annoyed that she got up so early for no reason, but accepted the terms. "You owe me, y'know."

He got up and picked through his stash to throw her a sleeve of Ritz crackers. "I'll be ready in an hour."

He checked his watch as he headed for Carl's cell to check on him and Judy, only to find it empty. He continued to the cafeteria, figuring he would've taken her there to eat breakfast, but only found a collection of people he didn't know very well, along with some people he knew very well.

He stalked over to where Glenn and Hershel were enjoying what he presumed to be cups of coffee. "Mornin'," he let out hoarsely. It was then he realized he had not gotten nearly enough sleep.

"Hey," Glenn returned cheerfully.

"Good morning," Hershel answered similarly. "You look like you could use some of this."

"Yeah, I think I will get some," he nodded tiredly. "Y'all seen Carl around?"

"He was in here about fifteen minutes ago," Glenn recalled. "Said he was gonna take Judith for a walk."

"A walk?" Rick frowned. It was freezing outside.

"Probably through the tombs. He likes to wander through there," Hershel added.

The tombs weren't secure enough for such a thing, and certainly not with a baby. Rick disappeared from the room without any other words, heading back for his cell to retrieve his gun. He was livid that Carl would take such a risk with his baby sister. This was what happened when he let his guard down even a little.

Just when he was about to curse himself for being so careless, he heard a laugh come from Michonne's cell that was unmistakably Carl's. A sigh of relief escaped his lips before he knocked on the wall adjacent to them. "Knock, knock."

Michonne felt a flutter in her stomach at the sound of Rick's voice, but ignored it in order to answer. "Come in."

He pushed her curtain aside, to find his son and his friend cross-legged on the floor, playing cards. He couldn't keep his gaze off of Michonne, remembering their night together. "Hey," he eventually croaked out.

"Hey," she answered coolly, deliberately. "You look like you didn't get much sleep."

He stopped himself from laughing, shaking his head instead. "No, not much."

"Hmm."

"I thought you were gone on the run already," Carl submitted obliviously. "When I woke up with Judy in my room, I took her to breakfast and then brought her to Beth already."

"Nah, I just couldn't sleep last night," Rick assured him, still eyeing Michonne. "Went for a walk around the prison for a little while."

Carl nodded, but didn't think much of it. "It's your turn, Michonne."

"Ah, so it is." She, too, couldn't keep her eyes off Rick, and was completely distracted from the game she'd been playing. "You care to join us, Rick?"

"No, I gotta get ready to go. I just wanted to check on Carl before I left…"

"I'm fine, Dad."

"I see that." He popped a squat next to his kid, softly running his hands over his unruly hair before saying goodbye. "You listen to Michonne, all right? Whatever she says, goes."

Carl nodded and locked eyes with his father. "Be careful out there."

"I will," he promised earnestly. They both knew he would do whatever it took to get back there. He then glanced over to Michonne and requested, "Can I talk to you alone real quick?"

Assuming his dad just wanted to give her more instructions, Carl huffed, "Whatever it is, you can say it in front of me."

Nope, not quite. "Everything's not about you," Michonne joked, agreeing to Rick's request with a smile. She gracefully picked herself up from the floor and followed him to the end of the cellblock, where they escaped to the cold morning, in the small, encased area just outside of their living quarters.

Before either could say anything, Rick devoured Michonne's lips with a quick but passionate kiss that he could take with him. "Hey," he finally greeted her.

"Hey." Her stomach was a mess, wondering what it was he wanted to talk about. Did he want to be a couple now? Or was last night just a one-time thing? They both left feeling more than satisfied, so she couldn't imagine he wanted to leave it there. But as she learned the night before, the man was full of surprises. She loved and hated that she felt like a clueless teenager around him.

"I didn't wanna leave without talking to you. In case you wanted to talk, that is."

She eyed him with a playful gleam in her eye. Talking was the last thing she wanted to do now that she'd gotten herself a taste of Rick Grimes. She wanted him again, would've taken him right then and there if she could have. "We don't have to talk about it. It was good, not much else to say."

He smiled widely at her assessment. She was right about that. "When I woke up in my cell, I was scared it had been a dream."

They were so much alike, it killed her. "Me, too."

"When did we go back?"

"Probably after I turned you down for a second go-round…"

"I'm pretty sure you were the one begging for seconds from Daddy," he joked, still smiling. The night was a blur, all he knew for sure was that it had been sublime, and that he wanted to do it again. He hated leaving, knowing she would be there, waiting for him. He let out a sigh, watching a puff of cold air leave his lips with it. "So we're okay?"

"I don't know what we are, but I'd say more than okay," she nodded. She took him into her arms, appreciating the warmth he offered, but also happy to have him against her for a few more seconds. Flashes of the previous night came back to her and she didn't want to let go. He felt so damn good. "Be safe out there."

"You be safe in here," he replied, returning her embrace. "Thank you, again."

"You don't have to thank me for fucking you," she teased. "I wanted to."

"Very funny." He knew that she knew he was thanking her for watching out for Carl. "I gotta get a shower and get ready to get outta here before Sasha kills me. But I'll see you in a couple days?"

She nodded, still hating that he was going to be out there with just Sasha. But she allowed him to escape her embrace and left him with one more kiss. "The sooner, the better."

Glad that the two of them were on the same page, he left with a grin.

Michonne waited a few seconds and then went back to her cell to find Carl, who'd been waiting not so patiently for her to return. "What's wrong with you," she noted his solemn expression.

"What did my dad say to you? I know it was something about how I need looking out for, but I can take care of myself."

"You know," she started, reclaiming her seat across from him on the floor, "sometimes, me and your dad have conversations that don't involve you."

Carl looked at her disbelievingly, but he also knew she wouldn't lie to him. "Like what?"

"That's none of your business," she smiled, grabbing one of the cards she needed from the pile between them.

"I didn't think he had anything to talk about besides me," he mumbled.

"Well there's Judith. I think he likes her better than you, if we're being honest."

Carl chuckled at her joke, but then turned serious after a moment. "I was worried he wouldn't ever like her. Since my mom died having her and all."

Michonne looked at her buddy with a softness in her eyes. She knew his mother had died while in labor, but it was a rarity for Carl to bring it up with her. She couldn't imagine how he must have felt in that moment, having to put his mother down, then his father completely losing it. _What a fucking kid_, she thought. "Well, I don't think you have to question that now."

"Yeah, he seems to be better now." Carl thought of all the progress his dad had made in the past few months and it made him happy. "I mean, I know why he lost it for a while, but I'm not sure what I would've done if he hadn't come back."

"You would've dealt with it," she promised him. Everything she knew about Carl told her that was true. But they were going to have a long couple of days ahead of them if this was the tone they were going to set, so she immediately wanted to lighten the mood. "Hey, how about you invite the other kids to the library and we can all play Uno?"

"That's okay," he sighed. He would much rather have spent the day with Michonne.

She watched his expression turn to something like disgust, and she chuckled. "You don't like the other kids, do you?"

"I hate them," he shook his head.

"Carl."

"I don't hate them," he reconsidered. "But I don't like them. I'm not like them."

"You're a special kid," she conceded. "Much more mature than anyone your age probably should be. But that doesn't mean you can't have fun."

"I don't think it's me, Michonne. I tried to hang out with them, but they're really, really awful."

Michonne couldn't help but laugh at his disdain. This was generally how she felt about people herself. "Now what does that mean?"

"Okay, like, the other day? It was pretty warm out, and Maggie and my dad had just finished clearing the walkers. So I got the soccer ball out and offered to kick it around with one of the new girls, Lizzie. It was going fine, one of the little kids even came out and was cheering us on. Then, all of a sudden, a walker comes to the fence and Lizzie throws the ball out there to him. I literally didn't know what to say, so I just came back inside."

Michonne was still laughing, but she had to admit, she wouldn't have put up with that shit either. "Okay, okay, I see your point."

"I just… wish they knew what I knew."

Michonne also wished all of the kids in the apocalypse were as prepared as Carl was. She'd never met a kid like him, and she knew that his father had a lot to do with that. The fact that, against all odds, Rick was ever able to find his family in this world, she knew that he was an extraordinary man. She didn't know what kind of woman his wife had been, but the Grimes boys were certainly different from most of what she knew in this new life.

"What about Patrick?" she eventually suggested, picking up another card.

"Uno," Carl called out when he had one card left. "Patrick's all right, I guess. We talk about video games sometimes, but that's about it."

"That can be enough," Michonne shrugged, relieved to pick up a Draw Four card. She was holding almost a dozen cards, and there he was, sitting smugly with one.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he shook his head at his punishment. "That was a dick move."

"Watch your mouth," she jokingly narrowed her eyes at him. "And go ahead, draw four."

He did so, smiling at every card he picked up. "Is that what you and my dad talk about? Video games?"

She shook her head at his insistence on knowing what she and Rick discussed before he left. "You're the worst, you know."

"I know. So…?"

"We discuss lots of things," she relented with a sigh. "We talk about life, old and new. We talk about the prison and his plan to build those traps like his friend Morgan had back in your hometown. And a barbecue pit in the courtyard for when it's warm again. We talk about you, and how needlessly difficult you can be," she winked. "We talk about TV shows and how we think they would've ended. And we talk about serious stuff too, like your mom and Andrea, what should happen with The Governor… We're friends, Carl. We talk about everything."

Carl took this in thoughtfully, appreciative of Michonne helping to bring his dad back to life. "My dad doesn't open up to many people. I mean, he likes everyone, and I think he trusts Daryl and Hershel more than anyone, but… even before, he wasn't known for being a talker, y'know? My mom was always trying to get him to open up more."

Michonne nodded understandingly. She'd been a bit more outgoing in her old life, but no one would have called her an extrovert or anything. She understood completely, which was probably what drew her to Rick and what drew Rick to her. "I know."

"So I'm glad he has you."

"I'm glad I have him," she smiled. "And you."

"Well duh, I'm obviously better than him."

She knocked his hat off of his head for talking shit about her friend. "Hardly."

"When he gets back, we're gonna have an Uno tournament and we'll see about that."

"Oh, okay," she smiled. "It's on then."

Pleased with their agreement, and more so, their conversation, Carl threw his final card to the pile in front of them and looked up at his Uno adversary. "I win."


	9. talkin'

_**A/N: Not gonna lie, this one is kinda filler-y, but I think it's cute lol. Hopefully, you guys are still enjoying! Much to my surprise, I think I finished the story yesterday, so I should be able to continue updating regularly. And that never happens, so I'm really excited, haha. As always, thank you so freakin' much for the feedback. It really means everything. I'll try and get back here with another chapter tomorrow! -Ashley**_

**9: talkin'**

Rick and Sasha had successfully completed their run, albeit a day later than they originally expected. But they were able to get everything on their list, including more blankets to combat the cold, cleaning supplies, wood and tools for the latest prison project, as well as some formula for Judith, and some vegetable and fruit seeds for Hershel. Sasha was quite satisfied with their haul, and as they made their way back to the prison, she noticed that her leader seemed to be as well.

"You've had a silly grin on your face all day. What gives?" she prodded playfully.

He briefly took his eyes off the road to look at her curious face. "I have no idea what you're talkin' about," he smiled.

"You do, but that's okay." She hadn't really expected him to tell her anything anyway.

"You remember how I was, I'm sure. When you and Ty first arrived at the prison."

"Crazy? Yes, I remember that," she joked.

He deserved that. He hadn't treated them well, even if they were all well past it. "I was out of it, yes. And I know you know now that's because my wife had just died. But it's been a few months, and I feel… better," he surmised quietly. "I feel like myself again."

Sasha nodded, having seen that change herself. He had certainly been a lot nicer, if not more present, in the recent months. "I've noticed. You've seemed, dare I say, happy?"

"I don't know if I'll ever be that again, but… better. Yes."

"What sparked this change?" She had a pretty good idea, based on her conversation with Carol, Maggie and Hershel a few days ago, but she wondered if he'd say it.

"I don't know," he lied. It had obviously been Michonne, the fact that she was back, and the shift that had occurred in their relationship. And on top of that, Carl had been in better spirits, everyone seemed to be getting along well. He just felt good. "I think there are a lot of reasons."

"And none of those reasons have names?" she pushed her luck.

He glanced at her again, one eyebrow lifted in suspicion, but ignored it as he saw they were approaching the prison.

Reading his expression, she grinned to herself. "All I'm saying is, if I didn't know any better, I would think you had a girlfriend."

"Now when would I have time for a girlfriend," he answered coolly, already hip to the game she was playing. If she had any idea about him and Michonne, he was not going to be the one to confirm it.

"It's cool, Rick. You don't have to tell me. We spend three days together, having each other's backs, but you can't tell me who's got you all smiley. It's cool."

He knew she meant her words lightly, so he continued to play coy. "I still don't know what you're talking about."

They were both surprised to find Beth waiting at the gate when they arrived, until Daryl appeared in their peripheral to open the gate. Rick rolled down his window to greet the two. "Everything good?"

Daryl nodded with a squint, peering into the car. "The two of y'all look good."

"Easy peasy," Sasha greeted him. "Turns out, he knows what he's doing out there."

"That's 'cause I taught him everything I know," Daryl joked, reaching into the car to give Rick a pat on the shoulder. "Me and Glenn picked up a new one yesterday, you oughta come in and meet him," he returned to Rick. "He's a doctor."

All Rick wanted to do was get inside and see his family. "I will once I see Carl and Judy." And Michonne.

He nodded again, allowing them onto the grounds. Beth waved as they passed and followed the car to the top of the hill so she could help unload everything.

"Judith's good," she greeted Rick when he stepped out of the car. "Carol didn't want to be out in the cold this mornin', so we switched duties."

Rick thanked her and they all silently unloaded the truck, but no one missed the fact that Rick did so as quickly as humanly possible.

"You got somebody to see?" Daryl joked, knowing that Rick liked to get to Carl and Lil' Asskicker as quickly as he could. But there did seem to be an extra pep to his step.

"I already asked him if he had a girlfriend we didn't know about," Sasha interjected with a teasing grin. "Couldn't get a straight answer out of him."

"My only girlfriend is this prison," he assured them, pulling the last few planks of wood from the bed of the truck, handing them over to Daryl. "I'm gonna find Josh after I check on the kids, and we can go over the plans for that outside gate."

Daryl accepted with the slightest of nods.

"Sasha, I want you to be there, too," Rick told her. "Along with Hershel, Carol, and Glenn, if any of y'all see them."

"I'll go find Carol once we're done here," Beth promised meekly.

With everybody having their marching orders, Rick swiftly made his way inside to cellblock C, elated to find his son and his… Michonne perched at one of the tables, engaged in a thumb war. "Well hello there," he greeted them.

Michonne popped up first at the sound of his voice, but reminded herself that she needed to chill the fuck out in front of Carl. She tried to play it off by pretending Carl was the one that had missed him terribly. "Thank god you're back. This one was worried sick."

"No I wasn't," Carl frowned, getting up to embrace his dad. "I knew you were fine."

Michonne silently shook her head from behind Carl with a silly smile.

Carl took note of the dried blood on his father's shirt and narrowed his eyes. "Everything went okay?"

"Everything went fine, son. Nothing my knife couldn't handle," he assured him. "How'd everything go here?" He was asking Carl, but starting at the woman in front of him.

"Fine," they answered simultaneously.

"We were fine," Michonne promised.

"I learned how to play Phase 10 and gin rummy," Carl announced excitedly. "And we made some really awful peanut butter cookies. And I got to hold Michonne's sword. It's a lot heavier than it looks, Dad. And she said she'll make spaghetti for us once Hershel's tomatoes come in in the spring. I told her how much you used to love spaghetti…"

Rick laughed as Carl's rambling trailed off into the air. That was a lot of information to take in at once. "So you had a good time, I take it."

"You can't leave me with anyone but Michonne."

"I can't make that promise," he chuckled letting go of his son. "But I'm glad it went well."

"No complaints from me," Michonne offered a small smile, silently wishing she could get a hug too. He'd been gone only three days, but it felt like an eternity after the last night they'd had together. She wanted nothing more than to feel his touch again.

"We appreciate you," Rick told her sincerely. "I'll let y'all get back to your thumb wrestlin'."

"If I'm not mistaken," Michonne interjected, "it's about time for Carl to take watch in the guard tower."

"Is it nine already?" Carl was gathering his hat and holstering his gun before anyone could answer, completely unaware that Michonne was primarily trying to get rid of him.

"Five minutes til," Rick informed him. "You be careful out there."

"Always am, Dad."

The two of them watched him disappear outside before turning back to each other. They were in the middle of the cellblock, so they couldn't do anything but stare at one another, but that was enough for the moment.

"I'm gonna go see Judy," Rick eventually broke the silence with a whisper. "Meet me in my cell?"

She nodded happily, studying him as he strolled upstairs where Carol's cell was housed. She immediately slipped into Rick's quarters and sat down on his bed. Before she knew it, she switched to the chair at his desk, silently wondering where he'd hidden those fruit snacks he won over a month ago.

The minutes felt like hours as she waited for him to appear, and finally, he did. "I'm so goddamn happy to see you," he smiled as he began to take off his jacket and unbutton his tan shirt.

"Likewise," she grinned, waiting for him to close his curtain. She wanted nothing more than to jump on top of him, but she restrained herself and simply went for a kiss. Their tongues found one another quickly, and before she knew it, she felt her insides pulsating. Her body had missed Rick Grimes as much as her head and heart had.

His hands roamed up and down her torso, stopping to play with her breasts every so often as they deepened their kiss. They were doing their best to stay silent, but she couldn't help but let out a small moan as his fingers slipped under her bra and squeezed her nipple.

"Shhhut up," he chuckled into her mouth, knowing anyone could be passing at any moment. They only had a few minutes to themselves before he had to hop into the shower and head to his meeting, but he was going to use every second he could to explore her body.

"Please take these off," she pleaded, referring to his jeans. She'd spent three days straight thinking of the next time she'd have Rick to herself, and she did not want to wait until nightfall for it to happen.

"Michonne…" He said her name in a lustful whisper, and it was the sexiest thing she'd ever heard. "We don't have time."

"I can be quick," she promised.

"I haven't had a shower in three days…"

"Does that mean your dick doesn't work?"

He tried his best to stifle a laugh as she pushed him backwards towards his bed. She was almost successful in persuading him into a quickie, but her efforts were thwarted when there was a knock at his cell door. They pulled apart as if they were criminals being caught stealing, and went to their own corners of the small room.

"Yeah?" Rick finally answered, pulling off his blood-covered shirt as he waited for the visitor to show their face.

It was Daryl. Had he known he would be interrupting something, he wouldn't have knocked, but it was clear by the looks on their faces and the swell to their lips that Rick and Michonne were up to some shit. "Didn't mean to bother y'all," he assured them, glancing back and forth between them.

Michonne looked guilty as sin when she said, "It's no bother. We were just talking."

Daryl didn't even think to dignify her lie with a response, he just looked at Rick. "Just came to tell you the meeting's set, everybody'll be in the library in about thirty minutes."

Rick nodded at the information. "Thank you, Daryl."

"Y'all enjoy your _talk_," Daryl smirked, gone from the space before either of them could retort.

"Well," Michonne started, approaching the man before her again. "You heard him."

"You heard him too." Rick rested his hands on her hips and he understood exactly why she was in such a rush. The thought of those hips riding him again was such a welcome idea. And the fact that she was almost insatiably hungry for him was a turn on, too. But alas, he wanted way more than thirty minutes with her. And he wanted to be clean when he did it.

"Thirty minutes is more than enough," Michonne insisted.

He gave her a playful tap on the ass, it bouncing against his hand as he regretfully denied her. "Not for me." With one last kiss to her lips, he left her starving as he headed for the showers.


	10. cracks in the crystal ball

_**A/N: And I'm back, as promised! You guys are full of surprises - I didn't expect anyone to like that last one lol. As always, I thank you so much for the feedback. If only you could see the smiles you put on my face! Anywho, here's another one!**_

* * *

**10: cracks in the crystal ball**

_I love your face  
__You love the taste  
__That sugar babe, it melts away…_

Rick had Michonne bent over a table, pounding into her like there was truly no tomorrow – and for all he knew, there wasn't – when suddenly, he stopped and pulled out.

She looked over her shoulder in a mixture of frustration and confusion, unsure of why he would do such a thing. "You okay back there?"

"Get on the table," he instructed in a husky whisper.

She was smiling, but still confused. "What?"

"On your hands and knees. On the table."

She wasn't sure what he was up to, but didn't question it any further. In a matter of milliseconds, she was perched on the tabletop, ass in the air. She closed her eyes and impatiently waited for his touch.

His hands roamed her backside momentarily, but they were soon replaced by his lips placing soft butterfly kisses against her skin. They trailed down the middle of her curvy frame, not even remotely shy about continuing down her ass until he reached her soaking wet center. When his tongue dipped inside her pussy, Michonne thought she was literally going to pass out.

"Holy fuck, Rick," she gasped, her breath completely caught in her throat.

His only reply was to send his tongue deeper inside her, smiling at the way her body contorted at the feeling. He explored every wall, every crevice, sucking gently at her clit, then harder, before releasing and repeating the action. She was so wet, she was practically dripping into his mouth, and he loved the taste.

_Keep me coming, keep me going  
__Keep me humming, keep me moaning  
__Nonstop love until the morning  
__Nonstop screaming, freaking, blowing_

"I... shit. Rick..." she could barely get out a sentence. The things he was doing didn't even make sense to her. Her brain was a jumbled mess all of a sudden, her body feeling like a powerless puddle under his control. "Jesus."

"He can't save you," he mumbled in amusement, still exploring with his tongue.

Her hands were gripping the edge of the table for dear life, she was panting and writhing, her hair covering the pure joy that was on her face. "Fuck yes," was the last thing she uttered before exploding into an almost violent orgasm. She wanted to hold on, but simply couldn't. He'd gone in for the kill and successfully taken her out.

_Can you eat my Skittles, it's the sweetest in the middle  
__Pink is the flavor, solve the riddle_

Not too long after that, the two of them were exhausted and entangled in one another, using a table and a couple of comforters as their bed for the evening, as they contemplated what had just happened.

"That might have been better than the first time," Michonne sighed happily once she was able to breathe again.

Rick smiled quietly to himself. He wasn't sure how to compare the two, but he certainly had no complaints about either encounter. "You think so?"

She nodded tiredly against his chest. As much as she loved their first time together, she found a divine chaos in him being the one in control. He wasn't nearly as readable as once thought. "You're good at this," she told him as she held tighter to his waist.

"Why do you sound surprised," he chuckled hoarsely.

"I don't know, I just… never imagined you… like this."

"Just because I'm crazy doesn't mean I'm asexual," he joked.

She laughed softly. "No, I'm clear on that. I think it's because you're always so serious and in no-bullshit mode."

"That is hilarious coming from you. I think you said all of four words the first month you were here."

"We have that in common," she admitted with a yawn. He was rubbing her back softly, which began to lull her to sleep.

"You know… I've never had sex with someone whose last name I didn't know," he realized with a light chuckle.

Her eyes popped open at the thought that he was going to ask her what it was. She'd left her last name in a past life, along with all the family she'd lost to the world, and did not want to delve into that on this practically perfect evening. "Please don't." The words came out of her mouth so softly, they were almost silent.

He felt her back tense, so he stopped his motions and looked down. "Hey. You okay?"

She nodded, but an obvious coldness had washed over her and she immediately sat up to retrieve her clothing. "We should probably get back to the cellblock…"

Rick knew she had secrets and demons that she carried around, just like everyone else. Hell, even before the world went to shit, people brought precarious amounts of baggage into their relationships. But he'd let her into his world, encouraged her to bond with his son, yet she continually pushed him away when it was time for the serious stuff. He wanted to push back, but for fear of making her run, he didn't say anything else. "Yeah, we probably should."

With that, they both got dressed, and he allowed her to go back to the cells first, just in case anyone was roaming the halls. He would follow a few minutes later, and tomorrow, they would probably do the same thing again.

* * *

Two weeks later, and the prison had already begun to look like a brand new place. After The Governor destroyed their gates, they knew they would have to fortify the entrance to the place, but the plan they'd come up with did that tenfold. They managed to create a blockade, made up of two large metal doors that could only be opened by someone inside, via a fairly sophisticated pulley system. And just outside the gates, Rick utilized Morgan's method of employing spikes to impale and incapacitate walkers, which eliminated a lot of the build up at the fences.

Inside the gates, the plans for the new eating area in the courtyard were well underway. They had finally collected enough wood to build a new gazebo and then some; it was now just a matter of pulling the design together. Rick was so proud of how everyone was working to get these projects done. He had a good group on his hands, and he knew it.

Meanwhile, his sexual escapades with Michonne showed no signs of slowing down, which put him in better moods than anyone had ever seen him in. A small part of him wished they could be more out in the open, like Glenn and Maggie, but he knew she wasn't ready to be that exposed. He wasn't sure if he was either, to be quite honest. Besides, sneaking around made it that much more exciting sometimes. The stolen glances, the hidden meanings when they spoke to one another amongst others, the fact that several of the others suspected things but didn't really know... it was fun. And he hadn't had fun in so long, he was happy to ride it out, for the time being.

He was standing next to the cell door, inhaling a bottle of water when he saw his son approach. "Hey, Dad," Carl greeted his father as he returned from his shift in the watchtower.

"Hey," Rick greeted him happily, taking a glance at his watch. It was later than he thought, almost time for Judith to eat again, so he pulled off his gloves and began to escort Carl inside. "All clear out there?"

"All clear. I thought I saw a lady walking through the woods, but I'm pretty sure it was just a walker."

Rick nodded absently, halfway wondering where Michonne was. He hadn't seen her all morning. "You goin' to get some lunch?" he asked.

"I'm not that hungry. I was gonna put my stuff down and see if Zack and Daryl needed any help with the gazebo." Carl glanced up at his dad for approval, but noticed a fairly large red spot adorning his neck, along with a few scratches. "Dad, did you get scratched!"

Rick frowned at the kid, unsure of why he was so alarmed. "What? No."

"You have…" Carl pointed to the spot on his neck that corresponded to where his dad was seemingly injured. "What is that?"

Rick touched the spot, knowing he hadn't been attacked by a walker. Michonne, on the other hand, was a different story. He was certain her nails had dug into his skin at that spot, along with a few other places, and he wouldn't have been surprised if she'd sucked his neck red, too. "It's nothin'," he promised his boy.

Carl still looked worried. "Are you sure? It looks like a scratch."

"I haven't had any close calls with any walkers, Carl. I probably just did it in my sleep." He winced, realizing he'd just stolen that excuse from Shane. "Or maybe a stray piece of wood," he appended.

"Fine. But I'm gonna check you for a fever for the next few days."

Rick smiled as they entered their cellblock, not expecting anything less of his kid. He was so proud of him sometimes. "I'm gonna go get your sister. If Daryl doesn't need you, you come back in and help Hershel with the rations." There had just been a recent run, and Carol and Hershel were left with the task of sorting the newest supplies. It was not an easy job, and they could use the extra hands.

"But he's got Carol. And Beth can do that if you've got Judith; they don't need me."

"I'm offering you a deal here, you can either take it, or you can go help them now."

"Fine," Carl sighed, glancing up just in time to see Michonne passing by them. "Hey Michonne!"

She was just looking for Rick and was glad to have found him, but focused her attention on Carl. "What's up, Grimes."

"They're finally getting started on the pit outside. You helpin'?"

"Oh, but of course," she grinned, refocusing on the older Grimes. "Where are you headed?"

"To get Judith. Time for her to eat," Rick nodded.

"Michonne, check it out," Carl interrupted with an odd enthusiasm in his voice. "My dad has scratches on his neck; don't they look like walker scratches?"

"Why do you sound excited about that," she frowned lightheartedly, taking a look at Rick's neck. She knew good and well she'd caused the damage, and made a mental note to apologize later. But for Carl, she would put on a show. "That doesn't look too good. Has Hershel seen this?"

"I'm pretty sure I just scratched myself in my sleep," he replied with narrowed blue eyes. "I haven't been close to any walkers lately."

She nodded and eyed him playfully, hoping Carl didn't notice the vibe between them. "Can I talk to you after you're done with Judith?"

"You can talk to me now," he offered softly.

Carl was now glancing back and forth between the two of them. He felt something odd in the air, but he wasn't sure what, so he decided to go. "I'm gonna head out."

The two of them watched Carl vanish into his duties and she considered Rick's offer. "It can wait 'til you're done."

It hadn't escaped Rick that Michonne didn't like to be around Judith. Whenever he had her, she would find a reason to make an exit, or offer to wait until he was done with her. Some part of him wondered if she'd lost a child somewhere along the way, but he pushed those thoughts aside, hoping that by now, after all they'd shared, she would have told him such a thing. _Maybe she just doesn't like babies_, he figured.

"Gimme half an hour?"

"Half an hour," she nodded, and continued outside to see what progress had been made.

* * *

It was closer to an hour before Rick was done with his daughter, though Michonne didn't mind waiting. But she found herself feeling a bit self-conscious when he came outside specifically to find her – everybody's eyes landed on the two of them as they made their way back in.

"Have they always been that nosy?" she commented half-jokingly once they were safe inside the cellblock.

Rick hadn't noticed, and wasn't sure what she was referring to. "Who?"

"Nothin'," she chuckled lightly. "It's looking good out there."

"We should be done by mid-March," he nodded, staring at her intently. "Hershel wants to start prepping the field for seeds soon…"

She couldn't help but admire everything he was doing to make the prison a real home. As with everything else, he refused to half-ass this project, and it was going to be a truly wonderful thing for their group. He was such a good man. Too good for this world, she knew. It took all of her strength to keep these thoughts to herself and tell him what she needed to say.

"I'm going back out tomorrow," she finally announced, with all the confidence she could muster.

Rick let out a big sigh, knowing that this day was inevitable. Admittedly, there was some part of him that hoped the sex would keep her there, but in the back of his mind, he knew that she would leave again. And how he responded would likely be a big factor in whatever future they had.

"Okay…" was all that came out of his mouth.

"Okay?"

"I don't like it. You know that," he supplied, never letting his eyes off hers. "But I can't stop you. And I know that."

"So you're not even gonna try."

"Is that what you want?"

"No, of course not. I want you to trust me, that I know what I'm doing."

"I trust you," he promised quietly. "I'm gonna miss you. But… we all got jobs to do, as Hershel says, and this is yours."

This had been much easier than she anticipated. She wasn't sure what to say. Making sure that no one was approaching, she took his hand into hers and squeezed. "Thank you. For making this easy."

He wished he felt as at ease as he seemed. Truthfully, he hated this. A lot. But this was her mission, and he had no right to try and stop her. She'd stayed much longer than he ever thought she would, and he was thankful for that at least. "Just hurry back to me."

She smiled at the fact that he didn't even try to shroud himself in the cover of the group. He wanted her back for him. "To you, huh?"

"To _me_," he repeated with emphasis. He wanted to cover her mouth in kisses, but instead, he pulled their entangled hands to his lips and left a light peck on each of her fingers.

The gesture was so small, so sweet, it felt downright romantic. Their relationship had been so physical to that point, she almost didn't know what to do with that moment of pure affection. She was taken aback and instinctively dropped his hand altogether.

He scoffed in disbelief, clearly disappointed by her action. From the beginning, he knew he was involving himself with a closed book, but he had to believe at some point he would be able to pry her open. That didn't seem to be happening, though, and it killed him a little more each time she shut him out.

She knew she'd hurt him and it was the last thing she meant to do. Her reaction was intrinsic. She had worked so hard to close herself off to love, and anything resembling it, she didn't know what to do when it threatened to invade her space. "I'm so sorry," she whispered quickly. "It's not you, Rick, I swear."

He nodded, knowing that to be true. He might have been crazy, but she was crazy and even a little damaged. He just hoped not irreparably.

"I'll see you tonight?" she asked hopefully, needing confirmation that she hadn't just ruined everything.

His eyes softened at her request, knowing that she had to have been genuinely sorry. And there was no way he'd let her leave for another two weeks without a proper goodbye. "Of course."

* * *

_Lyrics: "Blow" – Beyoncé (BEYONCÉ)_


	11. everything i'm asking for but you

**11: everything i'm asking for but you**

In the two weeks Michonne had been gone, the prison continued to transform. The gazebo had been fully constructed, complete with tables now, and the clay pit that would serve as a grill had begun to take shape as well. The field was ready to be sown, and clear across the yard, she could see some type of pigpen apparatus being primed. She could also see Rick and Carl circling the structure with Hershel, so she made that the first stop upon her return.

"Hey there," she greeted the trio, a bit surprised that none of them had noticed her approach. A big smile crossed Rick's features and she wondered if he was going to go in for a hug.

"Hey, you." He didn't opt for an embrace, since Hershel and Carl were right there, but he was clearly happy to see her. "You made it back."

"In two weeks, just like I promised," she reminded him.

The truth was, he'd been so busy, he hadn't even noticed how much time had passed. "Has it been two weeks already?"

She felt herself wanting to frown at his detachment, but quickly decided it was good that he obviously hadn't missed her too much. She didn't like how guilty it made her feel anyway. "Hey, Carl."

He was the one to offer her a big bear hug, along with a grin that made him look like the kid he thought he wasn't. "I wish you'd been here to save me from this," he mumbled, shaking his head.

"From what?" she chuckled, greeting Hershel with her eyes.

"I'm a farmer now." He rolled his big blue orbs at the situation and extended his arm to present her with his latest project. "Everything the light touches… will be a vegetable."

She couldn't help but laugh at the fact that the kid was funny, even if he was being impudent. "Ah, I'm impressed." And she meant that. If they grew enough food at this place, the need for runs would be cut down significantly. "Is that why you're out here without your gun?"

"You noticed, huh."

"I notice everything," she winked.

"My dad took it about a week ago. Said we won't need them for a while, they'll just get in the way."

She found that curious, but didn't question it. Rick had done a fine job up to then, she had no reason to doubt his judgment now. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I found you a couple of comic books and Nintendo games I know you don't have yet."

"Really?" His entire face lit up at the news.

"They're in the car. The books aren't in the greatest shape, so be careful."

"Dad, can I go read?" he turned back to his father, who'd gone back to conversing with Hershel.

"What're you reading?" Rick squinted.

"Michonne brought back some comic books from her run."

He found most comic books inappropriate for a kid Carl's age, but at this point in the game, what did appropriate even mean anymore? Besides, he would just stay up all night reading them with a flashlight if Rick said no. "You've got an hour," he relented. "Then I want you to eat something and get back out here."

Carl knew he could stretch that into two hours if he ate his lunch slowly. "Okay," he nodded. "Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Michonne!"

Rick watched his son quickly run away from him and then turned to Michonne. "Besides finding comic books, how'd it go out there?"

She shook her head disappointedly, glancing back and forth between Rick and Hershel. "Nothing bad, nothing good."

Rick knew that meant she would be going back out in another couple of weeks, maybe even days. "Well then… I'm gonna get back to it."

"What are y'all doing out here?" she had to know before he went back to seemingly ignoring her.

"Caught up with a feral pig right after you left. She had three piglets, we're keepin' 'em in the courtyard near B for the time being," Rick explained. "But I'm gonna raise them."

"We're gonna have some fresh bacon around here soon," Hershel joked with a comforting smile.

That sounded almost too good to be true, but Michonne grinned at the idea. "I'll leave you to it then."

She walked away, but couldn't help feeling slighted. Rick had visibly been happy to see her, but that seemed to wash away rather quickly. It had been replaced by disinterest, or maybe just mere distraction. Or perhaps Rick was being cooler than usual because Hershel was more perceptive than most, but it felt like she'd been given cold shoulder, and she wasn't sure why. She thought she'd be coming home to secret, sexy glances and kisses. Instead, all she got was a brief smile.

Michonne wandered inside to leave her weapon and poncho in her cell, surprised to find Carl on her top bunk, thumbing through one of the comics she'd brought him.

"You gotta read this one," Carl greeted her, seemingly unaware that she wasn't in much of a mood for their usual antics.

But she didn't want to shit on his happiness just because she wasn't so jovial at the moment, so she feigned interest. "Which one is that?"

"Aphrodite IX. She's badass," he exclaimed.

Pleased that he was so intrigued by a female protagonist, she promised she would get into it, too. "I'll start tonight."

"Are you gonna have time tonight?" he frowned.

"Why wouldn't I?"

His blue eyes focused on her knowingly, much in the same way Rick's did when she was being silly or nonsensical. "I may be young, but I'm not stupid," he felt the need to keep reminding everyone. "I know you and my dad go to the tombs almost every night…"

Michonne felt her entire body tense at the thought that Carl knew about her and Rick. It wasn't that she wanted them to stay a secret forever, but she thought she would at least have time to figure out what they were before everyone else did.

"You're friends. I get it. I'm just glad you're back," he shook his head, thinking of all the crap his dad had put him through since she left. "I'm kind of hoping you keep him up all night so I can sleep in tomorrow."

She felt uncomfortable with Carl's wishes, though she wasn't sure he knew what he was implying. "How long have you known about us going to the tombs?"

"I figured it out after about the third time I woke up with Judy in my cell," he shrugged. "If he wants to stay up all night talking to you, I'm fine with it. He seems to like it."

She wasn't sure about talking, but Rick certainly did enjoy their time together. That much, she knew. "I'm glad you're okay with it," she smiled softly.

"Maybe you can talk him out of this whole stepping down as leader thing."

"What do you mean?" She could feel herself frowning, but she was too confused to care.

"My dad," Carl sighed. "He's decided not to be the leader anymore. There's a council now, with Hershel, Daryl, Sasha, Carol, and Glenn."

She was so utterly perplexed by this information. "When did this happen?"

"Like two days ago." Carl shut his comic book altogether and laid back on the bed. "I told him a while ago that I thought he should stop being the leader, but that's because he was losing it. But he's fine now, I thought. I don't know why he's stepping down now."

Michonne had to admit, she didn't know why either. Things had been going rather swimmingly since they brought over the people from Woodbury. She knew he had incited somewhat of a dictatorship prior to that, but since then, he'd taken the advice of everyone under consideration before making decisions. He was turning into a damn fine leader. "Maybe he just needed a break," she offered quietly, trying to convince herself of that same thing. "We all need them every now and then."

"So he's gonna take a break from being my dad too?" he asked sarcastically. "He doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe he needed a break so he could be your dad. So he wouldn't have to run at every sign of trouble."

"But that's what he decided to be when he took on the role as leader."

"Carl, I doubt he asked for this. His only goal in life is to keep you and your sister safe."

"So the rest of the people here don't matter? He can't just quit. What about you?"

"Don't worry about me," she smiled tenderly. She knew she was in Rick's head, if not his heart, but if push came to shove, she could keep herself safe.

"I don't wanna be a farmer, Michonne. I'm good at keeping watch."

"You are," she agreed, locking eyes with him, "but maybe your dad wants to see what else you can do. Just go with him on this ride, okay?"

Carl looked down, not wanting to relent, but knowing he didn't really have a choice in the matter. Rebelling was useless, anyway. His father could just lock him in a cell if he really wanted to. "Did you know he was gonna do this?" Carl wondered.

Michonne's eyes darted downward, obviously bothered by the fact that this was all a giant surprise to her. This seemed like something Rick would have spoken to her about beforehand, but alas… "No. No clue."

* * *

It wasn't until after dinner that Michonne was finally afforded some alone time with Rick. For him to not be the leader anymore, he was sure as hell still busy. She kept herself occupied by helping burn walker bodies with a couple of the other guys, but she found herself both surprised and disappointed that it was almost 8:00 PM before Rick stopped by her cell.

"He does exist," she gasped jokingly, watching him enter her small living space. She could tell he was tired by the way he walked, but she wanted the hug and kiss that he was unable to offer earlier in the day. She stood to embrace him, only then realizing how tired she was herself.

"I missed you," he whispered into her ear, squeezing her as if it would keep her there forever.

She had to ignore the fact that he didn't even know it had been two weeks, when the whole thing felt like an actual eternity to her. Instead, she placed her lips along his jaw, enjoying the feel of his beard against her skin, until she reached his lips. He smelled of outside, but his breath was minty fresh, which made her giggle.

"Oh, it's funny that I missed you?"

"It's sweet," she smirked, being taken in by his intense stare.

"It has not gone unnoticed that you didn't say it back, by the way."

"Oh, you need me to say it? Didn't know you were so insecure…"

"You're very funny." He left a quick kiss on her lips before letting her go so that he could have a seat. The day had really exhausted him, he realized.

"It would appear I've missed a lot besides you," she finally admitted with a cheeky grin, taking a seat next to him.

"Lay down," he instructed, pulling up her legs so that they were in his lap. He gently removed her boots and wool socks, throwing them to the floor beside him. He sat back on the bed, taking one of her feet into his hands and began to massage.

"Oh shit," she groaned softly, the feeling almost orgasmic. It was official – Rick had magical fingers.

He smiled at her reaction, working her aching joints like a pro. In actuality, he hated her feet, but he very much loved making her happy. "What else did you miss?" he wondered once it seemed he had lulled her into peace.

"I missed you turning into a farmer, apparently."

"Yes, you did miss that." He continued to knead her, beginning to make his way up her leg. "What else?"

His deft hands worked her so well, she felt like putty at his mercy. "I can't have this conversation like this…"

"Well good luck getting me to stop," he teased, his fingers still moving between her legs, up her thighs.

She knew what he was aiming for, but she didn't want to give in so easily. They had things other than sex that needed to be discussed, it seemed. "I missed you stepping down as leader."

And the mood was gone. He stopped his massage and gently rested his hands over her feet. He wanted to be the one to break that news to her. "Carl told you?"

She nodded.

"It's not a big deal," he sighed. "Certainly not as big as Carl is making it seem."

"What's the reason?"

He didn't miss the frown that was taking over her face. "Don't look at me like that. I know what I'm doing."

"I don't doubt that you do," she assured him. "It just seemed to come out of nowhere."

"It didn't. I've been thinkin' about it for a while."

"You never told me…"

"You don't wanna start comparing lists of things we've never told each other," he retorted, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "I just didn't wanna burden you."

She hated it, but he was right. When it came to being forthcoming, she wasn't winning any prizes. "Is that why you're acting like this?"

"Like what?" his eyes narrowed, waiting, almost daring her to say something out of pocket.

"Like I'm an obligation all of a sudden."

"What?"

"Rick, you didn't even notice I was gone."

"That's ridiculous," he chuckled mockingly. "I wish you were here all the time. But life doesn't stop just because you leave."

"I'm not saying it should." She let out a sigh, feeling herself getting frustrated, and removed her legs from his lap so that she could sit close to him. "I don't want us to ruin this before it begins."

"I don't either," he whispered. He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and reveling in her presence. "I just don't know what the right move is. I don't want to weigh you down with my problems, not when you're out there facing your own. And I also don't want you carrying your burdens by yourself. I want you to talk to me, Michonne. I wanna know you. But I feel like I'm pressing my finger into an open wound every time I try to get you to open up."

She found herself laughing out loud, remembering that that was exactly what he'd done within the first five minutes of them meeting. And that shit hurt. "Don't ever do that again," she replied, smiling.

"I won't," he promised. "But you gotta stop shutting me out. I'm here. For you."

Making that promise was going to be hard. She could vow to be there, and she could pledge her two weeks, and she could even swear to trust him with her life. But handing over her heart and all her pain… that was an entirely different story. That made this real. And real, like feelings, were too messy for this life.

"Rick…"

He heard her sniffle and opened his eyes to see tears streaming down her face. "Hey." He wiped them away, unsure of what he'd said to cause her to cry. But not wanting to cause any more anguish, he pulled her into his arms and rubbed her back. "Not today then."

She couldn't be sure she would be ready the next day either, but she was glad he had relented. She didn't have it in her to fight at the moment. "Not today," she repeated, melting into his embrace.


	12. fun again

_**A/N: Yep, here's another one. I kinda feel like I'm inundating you guys with chapters, but I'm just so excited that they're all ready to go, I can't wait to post them! So let me know if I'm moving too fast. I tend to do that sometimes lol. But I won't ramble too much, just know that I appreciate you all so, so very much! **_

* * *

**12: fun again**

Sunday morning rain was falling, which meant most of the prison inhabitants would be stuck inside all day. Save for Daryl, who gave exactly zero fucks about some water, and had decided to check the snares, and Glenn and Maggie having their sleepover in the guard tower, the cellblocks were full and lively.

Hershel suggested another game day to keep everyone from going stir crazy, and so, it was decided. Carol thought it important for the kids to keep up their reading comprehension, so she designated the first half of the day as story time. Then, after lunch, they would be able to join everyone else in the cafeteria for games and even some stale candy.

Carl, however, not really considered a kid by anyone but his father, was allowed to join Rick and Michonne after breakfast, where they promised they could finally have their Uno tournament.

"You know how to play, right, Dad?"

Rick was amused at how visibly excited his son was to have this time with the two of them. But he knew he was gonna have to knock the kid down a peg if he didn't stop teasing him. "I've been playing Uno since before you were born, son. Don't make me show you how it's done."

Carl playfully dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Michonne said the same thing. I beat her, handily, four times in a row."

"That's 'cause I let you win," Michonne inserted with a smile, watching Carl deal the cards. "For a beginner, you sure do talk a lot of trash."

"Don't be mad 'cause I schooled you."

"Alright, alright. Talk is cheap," Rick piped up, collecting his cards. "You two need to put your money where your mouth is."

"You managed to fit a lot of clichés into those two sentences," Michonne chided him with a wink. "And what money?"

"Yeah, what money, Dad?"

"Y'all are gonna sit here and act like you don't know the currency around here?" Rick pulled a box from underneath his seat, containing a small collection of all the food he had stashed away in his cell. It was mostly made up of candy bars, because he knew Michonne couldn't resist, but there were also a bunch of Oreos, which was Carl's weakness.

"We're betting?" Carl asked eagerly. He didn't have nearly as much loot as his dad to play with, but he instantly ran for his cell to find his collection.

"You're cute," Michonne proclaimed quietly after finding herself staring at Rick for an inordinate amount of time.

He'd been studying his cards, but immediately locked eyes with her at the sound of her voice. "So are you. But compliments won't get you out of ponying up."

She chuckled lightly. "I'm serious, Rick. I could watch the two of you forever."

"Same here," he retorted genuinely. "Carl loves you, you know."

"And I love him."

An awkward silence hung in the air as the two of them avoided saying anything further than that. The sentiment was certainly there, but there was way too much ego in the atmosphere now; it was unlikely the words would come out of either of their mouths anytime soon.

"So... you got some peanut butter crackers to play with or somethin'?" Rick questioned, wondering why she had yet to get up.

"I got nada," she shrugged innocently. "I eat everything I find."

"It's a wonder you're so tiny."

"Not everything is tiny."

"This is true," he allowed with a smirk, his mind suddenly on the magnificence that was her ass.

"Don't," she demanded, a grin covering her face, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"You're the one that said it!" he laughed.

"Said what?" Carl had returned to their table, inquiring as to what he'd missed.

"Nothing," the two of them responded in unison.

Carl's bright blue eyes studied them suspiciously for a beat, but he figured it was one of those things he wouldn't find funny anyway, so he let it go. "Michonne, what are you betting with?"

She rifled through Rick's box and picked several items she could use for their game. She sat back down and eyed him, daring him to say something.

"Really now?" he pretended to be offended.

She shrugged nonchalantly and then looked at Carl. "Shall we get started?"

Carl was too amused, glancing at his dad to see if he was going to do anything. "You just gonna let her take our stuff, Dad?"

"My stuff, you mean?" Rick sat back on his chair, an impish grin on his face as he stared at Michonne. "It's all right. I'll have it back soon."

Or so he thought.

Over an hour later, Rick did not have his stuff back. But neither did Michonne. Carl was cleaning up and quite happy about it. It came to the point where Michonne was wondering if they were all playing the same game.

"Maybe we forgot how to play," she noted to Rick, watching Carl go out first for the fifth time now.

"Hey, maybe you're too old," Carl stuck out his tongue at the two of them.

"Watch yourself," she told him with raised eyebrows. "This isn't the only game there is."

* * *

After lunch, the cafeteria had been filled with the sound of little laughter once the kids had joined, and Carl couldn't have been more annoyed. He had thoroughly enjoyed the morning and the relative quiet of the grown ups, but his mood had visibly shifted once Lizzie and her crew of misfits were in the room.

Noticing this, Michonne tried to get him to lighten up. "Hey Carl, what was your favorite subject in school?" She always wondered this about him, seeing how intelligent he was, and so unlike any other child she knew, but always forgot to ask.

He eyed her carefully. They were playing poker now, which he was still very much a novice at, and he thought she was trying to distract him. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering, really."

"He loved reading," Rick revealed for him proudly. "His teachers, from kindergarten on up, couldn't believe a child liked to read as much as Carl." He had so many fond memories of his son as a student. He remembered always enjoying parent-teacher conferences, listening to teachers gush about his kid. "Loved art class, too. Probably why he loves those comic books so much."

"Hated math," Carl appended, even though he'd been doing exactly that all day long.

"Same here," Michonne made a silly disgusted face at him.

He laughed, throwing down a couple of cards, and then decided to ask her a question he'd been wondering about her. "What did you do… like, for a living… before everything happened?"

Rick looked up at her, having speculated the same thing, but never got around to asking, too afraid she would avoid the question.

"If you must know," she began to reveal slowly, "…I was a spy." She glared at him, pretending to play suspicious, but didn't offer a smile, or anything to indicate she was joking.

"We're you really?" Carl's eyes lit up.

"Nah," she winked merrily. "I was a curator at the High Museum in Atlanta."

"Really?" Rick appeared positively enthralled by the revelation. "No bullshit?"

"No bullshit," she shook her head, glancing at him.

"We've been to that museum so many times," he marveled, basically stupefied at how close their paths had probably come to crossing.

"Dad, is that where we went that time my school had the field trip to Atlanta?"

"It is." Rick looked at his son, surprised he had any recollection of that. It all seemed so long ago. He remembered Lori chaperoning that trip, coming home exhausted of spending two days with twenty 8-year-olds. "I don't know what I pictured you as, but it wasn't that."

"I'm curious now," she smirked.

"It was totally believable that you were a spy," Carl chuckled. "What does a curator do?"

"It's kind of like being the manager of the museum. You oversee things, you select what will be displayed and when, and how. Sometimes, I would write grants to get money for the museum. It was a whole list of things."

"Were you interested in art when you were my age?"

"Always," she retorted emphatically. "Art and literature were big deals in my house."

Carl nodded, remembering her taking that colorful cat sculpture from the bar in his hometown a few months back. He thought she was weird back then, but knowing this about her, it made more sense now. He thought of what else he could ask that would piece together the puzzle that was Michonne. "Did you grow up in Atlanta?"

"New York, for the most part," she shook her head. "Moved to Atlanta in my teens, after my father got a position at Emory."

"Emory University? That was right next to the CDC," Carl recalled, rather somberly.

Michonne was surprised a kid his age knew anything of the Centers for Disease Control. "Did you go to the CDC on your field trip, too?"

"No. My dad took us there after the outbreak. It was like the best night ever, until the doctor there tried to blow us up."

It was then that Michonne remembered Andrea speaking of her time there briefly. She had never mentioned the entire group, only that she had almost died there; almost given up there. Michonne never asked anything further than that, but wished she had now, knowing she must've left a lot out. "That sounds like quite a story."

Rick had been quiet, watching Michonne and his son interact, almost envious of the easy camaraderie they shared. Sometimes it was like pulling teeth trying to get Michonne to open up, but all Carl had to do was ask and she answered. "It was a mess," he eventually offered to the conversation. "We thought we'd found refuge, but it was literally a ticking time bomb."

"Literally," Carl agreed with emphasis and a chuckle. "We got out with like twenty seconds to spare."

Rick was smiling at the thought, but replied, "I'm not sure we should be laughing at how close we came to dying."

"You gotta laugh or you'll cry," Michonne surmised. She let out a big sigh and looked at Rick for longer than she probably should have with Carl sitting there. She loved spending time with Carl, and especially enjoyed the two of them together – she felt like they were their own familial unit, sitting there laughing, ignoring everyone else in the room. But it had been hours, and she was ready to go. She wanted to be alone with Rick, but had no idea how to get that point across to him.

"Did you wanna play something else?" Carl was very perceptive, and had noticed he was losing Michonne little by little. "Monopoly is a good, long one."

The only good, long anything she wanted was Rick Grimes. "How 'bout a break," she suggested hopefully. "It's getting a little loud in here."

"The library is open now," he realized. "We could go there."

"Carl, let's just take a breather," Rick interjected, feeling just as weary as Michonne seemed to be. Entertaining kids, even one like Carl, was exhausting stuff. He glanced at his watch, seeing that it was almost 5:00. "You haven't even taken a shower today, kid. You should clean up for dinner and then we can reconvene for a round of Monopoly."

Carl wasn't sure why the sudden shift had occurred, or why it seemed like they were trying to get rid of him, but decided to relent. He had learned in recent weeks that things were more likely to go his way of he didn't argue with his father. "What are you guys gonna do?" he inquired obliviously.

"The rain has let up," Rick noted, glancing towards the window. "I was gonna do a perimeter check, see if Glenn and Maggie wanted to come out of their little bungalow out there." He eyed Michonne, hoping that she'd get the message that he wanted her to come with.

"I wanted some fresh air myself," she confirmed.

He smiled to himself, loving that they didn't have to say anything to each other sometimes.

Carl narrowed his eyes, wondering why he couldn't come on this walk too. But he remembered what Michonne said, that sometimes their friendship wasn't about him. As much as he was annoyed by it, he couldn't always be around them. "So we'll meet back here in an hour?"

Michonne didn't know if that was enough time for her to do what she wanted to do. She looked at Rick and then back at Carl. "How about at seven?"

"Two hours?" he exclaimed.

"Carl, we've been with you literally all day. I've barely even seen Judith," Rick reminded him. "It's just a break."

"But... okay," he relented disappointedly. Rainy days were rare, and an entire day where his dad wasn't busy was even rarer. He just wanted to savor those moments. "You'll be back for dinner?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Michonne promised.

Carl made the obvious choice to ignore her statement and requested confirmation from Rick. "Dad?"

"We'll be back for dinner," he guaranteed with a smile.

Michonne wasn't sure what that was about, but she knocked it away and continued outside with Rick, relieved to be greeted by a fresh breeze. It was chilly out, but inside had gotten so stale and muggy, the cool weather was a welcome change.

Rick followed Michonne down the steps out of their cellblock and they commenced their walk. A comfortable silence accompanied them as they strolled past all of their recent work, until they rounded the corner where Cellblock B was housed.

_Whenever I'm alone with you  
__You make me feel like I am home again_

"An art curator, huh," Rick was the first to break the silence.

Michonne smiled flirtatiously, wondering what he thought of it. "Yeah..."

"This world has changed us so much." He sighed a somewhat happy sigh and linked his left arm with her right so that they walked as close to one another as possible.

_Whenever I'm alone with you  
__You make me feel like I am whole again_

She hated how cute he was sometimes. He always seemed to show just the right amount of affection at just the right time. "You think we never would've met under normal circumstances?"

"Met? Maybe," he shrugged, looking at the side of her beautiful face. "But we wouldn't be walking like this in the other world."

She smiled, knowing that to be true. "Probably not."

"You probably had some giant house in the suburbs. Or maybe a ritzy condo in Buckhead," he joked, knowing how the affluent in Atlanta lived. "You went to wine and cheese parties, didn't you?"

"I did not!" She laughed loudly, knowing she was lying through her teeth.

_Whenever I'm alone with you  
__You make me feel like I am young again_

"You did," he was smiling.

"Maybe one."

"Uh huh."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Not a damn thing," he chuckled, his southern drawl thick with contentment. "You were classy."

"Still am." She lightly nudged him with her shoulder. "...All things considered."

"Classy is not what comes to mind when I think of you on your knees in front of me."

"Rick!" Her jaw dropped in surprise, and she shoved him harder this time, forgetting that he'd take her with him if he went down.

"You know I'm joking," he laughed, loving the lightness between them. He tried not to think of when or why it would be taken away, just delighting in the moment.

"You're awful," she grinned to herself, trying not to laugh. "Fucking awful."

"You love it, though."

_Whenever I'm alone with you  
__You make me feel like I am fun again_

He was so cocky sometimes. But he was right, she did love it. She stopped walking, causing him to do the same, and waited for him to wrap his arms around her, which she knew he would do. The cold wasn't nearly as biting as it could have been, but when he graced her with a kiss, she felt her insides warm considerably. "There it is," she inhaled once they pulled apart.

He grinned at her reaction. "There what is?"

"I've been waiting for that one for three weeks now."

"I'm certain we've kissed since you got back..."

"Not like that. Not like you meant it."

He almost resented that, but he was too happy to dwell on it then. "You're a piece of work," he smirked.

"Yes, I am." She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards Cellblock A, knowing they could reach the tombs from there.

Once he figured out where she was leading him, he stopped in his tracks. "Are we really gonna do this? Right now?" he whispered.

She had missed Rick more than words could say. The two-week breaks were torturous enough on their own, but she had been back for almost a week and they still hadn't done anything more than kiss. She knew why, and was probably the main one to blame, but she simply couldn't wait anymore. "Why not?"

Well, for one, it was still daylight. And literally everyone was roaming the prison. The chances of them being caught were much higher than usual. "I mean… we've just never done it during the day before," Rick stammered, trying to figure out why the hell he'd be trying to talk himself out of this. They had drifted apart a bit, sure, but he still wanted her more than anything.

_However far away, I will always love you  
__However long I stay, I will always love you  
__Whatever words I say, I will always love you_

She let her head fall back to rest on his chest. "Doesn't that just make it more fun?"

She was so fucking sexy, he thought to himself. Silently conceding, he placed his hands on her hips and let her lead the way, placing soft kisses on the back of her neck as she walked. They'd barely even made it inside the laundry room before his hands were up her shirt, squeezing at her perky breasts. He couldn't wait to have them in his mouth.

They fumbled their way to their favorite spot, making a lot of noise in the process as they knocked one of the tables into the wall. "Shhhh," Michonne silently chuckled into Rick's neck before resuming her task of kissing it.

"You just make sure you don't give me anymore hickies," he joked, running his hands over the smooth skin of her stomach.

"Listen. I can't help it if I like the way your skin tastes."

"I like the way your everything tastes," he shot back, "but I ain't leavin' marks."

"Get a tan," she teased, not showing any signs of letting up.

He picked her up by her ass, and lifted her onto the table, standing in between her legs. Knowing how much she would love and hate it, his fingers worked their way between her thighs, massaging her center, over her jeans.

"Fuck. You," she whispered, feeling herself becoming wet already. He'd barely touched her and there she was, coming for him. "Goddamn," she growled into his skin.

At the risk of getting caught with their pants down, they both knew they couldn't do their usual full on, butt-naked-roll-around-the-laundry-room-for-an-hour session, but they were going to do their best to enjoy their early evening romp. As Michonne stuck her hands down Rick's pants, readying his cock for their antics, he lifted her shirt, lowered her bra and sucked at her beautiful brown nipples like he was looking for milk. He was hungry for her, and the secrecy of it all only intensified his appetite.

"Hey," he mumbled, his mouth full of her breast. Her hands were working overtime and she was going to get him off before they even started if she kept it up. "You can slow it down."

She giggled, realizing she had gotten a little carried away. His mouth on her chest had been distracting, to say the least. "Sorry." She wasn't actually sorry, though. He was hard and more than ready, and that was nothing to apologize for. "Can we get to it?" she demanded, sounding more needy than she intended.

"Yes, ma'am," he smiled, already unbuckling her pants. They were so tight, he had to peel them off of her.

Having already unbuckled his belt, she pulled it off altogether and unbuttoned his jeans for him in one rapid move. They fell just low enough for him to pull out and then go in. Michonne let out a wobbly shriek once he was finally inside her, it felt so unbearably good. His hand immediately covered her mouth, which made it all the more intense, before he began to thrust into her. Her legs wrapped around him, she held onto his shirt for leverage, letting his stroke overtake her body.

All of their sex had been fantastic, but there was something about him on that particular afternoon that was different from all the other times. A calmness, a confidence, maybe a coolness. She wasn't sure. But he was firing on all cylinders without even really trying. Maybe farming had done a body good.

It wasn't long before she felt that familiar growl in her loins and she knew her orgasm wasn't too far off. "Almost there," she breathed, doing her best to control the volume of her voice.

He was thankful, having been on the brink for several minutes now. He did that thing where his fingers helped finish her off in the most excruciatingly pleasurable way possible.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she whimpered into his neck as the entire lower half of her body reveled in rapture. She was done and he was finishing when they heard voices in the corridor. It was impossible to tell how close they were, given how harsh the echoes were in the tombs, but Michonne felt her whole body tense. "Hurry," she whispered harshly.

He had just released himself as the noises became unmistakably close. "Shit," he hissed, pulling out of her slowly. He pulled his jeans back on, but his dick was taking its time going soft again. "Didn't I say this would happen?"

She rolled her eyes playfully as she got her own shit together. "You love this," she smirked.

He quickly moved to stand in front of her, fixing the scarf that had begun to fall off of her head, wiping the sweat from her forehead. "I do," he admitted with a smile.

She did the same, brushing his curls from his face and straightening his shirt. His lips were obviously swollen, but there was nothing she could do about that but chuckle. "We good?"

"Good as we're gonna get."

They had just enough time to separate before the door handle clicked and swung open. In walked Daryl and Carol.

* * *

Lyrics: "Lovesong" - Adele (21)


	13. a toast for the a-holes

_**A/N: You guys really, truly are the best. Like, I can't even. It's impossible to put into words how much I enjoy your feedback. Your insight into these weirdos I've created is really the only reason I keep going. I've even maybe possibly started on a sequel already. So I thank you all so, so much. And I'm gonna shut up now and keep the party going! -Ashley **_

* * *

**13: a toast for the assholes**

Rick stared at Daryl in a mixture of annoyance and disbelief that the same person had caught him twice in compromising positions with Michonne. "You've gotta be kidding me," he mumbled to himself.

"What are you two up to?" Carol wondered out loud, eyeing the couple before her. They were sitting conspicuously far apart, while their foreheads glistened in the light.

"Let me guess," Daryl smirked, glancing back and forth between the two of them as well. "Talkin'."

"What are _you two_ up to," Michonne avoided the question to interrogate them. It was just a guess, but she figured most people didn't come to the laundry room, in pairs, just to fold their drawers.

"We were gonna get lit," Daryl answered honestly, holding up a fairly full bottle of Jack Daniels. "Didn't wanna do it in front of the kids."

"Plus, it's so warm in here," Carol added, already basking in the temperature of the room.

Rick couldn't help but laugh. Apparently, his secret spot wasn't so secret after all. "Can't say we haven't done the same," he smiled back at them. He stood from the table, preparing to lead Michonne out of the room. "We'll let y'all get to it," he started.

But Daryl wouldn't hear of it. "Wait a minute. Y'all ain't leavin', are ya?"

"We didn't mean to interrupt your little meeting." Carol wasn't quite as keen as Daryl about everything going on between Rick and Michonne, but she wanted to make them squirm just as much as he did, it seemed. "You're welcome to join us."

"Enough whiskey to go around," Daryl added.

Michonne glanced at Rick, hoping he had some way to get them out of that room. She suddenly felt like she was being suffocated by Carol and Daryl's knowing stares. Rick seemed to be playing it cool, or at least playing at playing it cool, but she wanted to get out of there. Badly.

"We told Carl we would join him for dinner," Rick finally returned, hoping that was a satisfactory answer for the two busybodies before him.

"We'll get you back in time for dinner," Daryl promised, taking a seat in the giant space between the two of them. It wasn't lost on him that the spot was warm, as if someone had just been occupying it. He also spotted Rick's belt a few feet from where Michonne sat, just giving away all their secrets. _God, they're shitty at this_, he thought to himself. "Come on, Carol. There's room enough for everybody."

With a sigh, Rick sat back down, as did Michonne, and Carol joined them. The discomfort level, for Rick and Michonne at least, was at a ten. They barely had time to process the sex they'd just had, and here they were, having a powwow with Daryl and Carol.

"Only brought two cups," Daryl announced as he poured shots for his female companions. "Ladies first."

Michonne and Carol accepted the drinks while Rick awaited the bottle itself. "How often do y'all do this?" he questioned, staring down the bottleneck. He took a swig while he waited for an answer.

"Just one other time," Carol replied, downing her shot and holding out her cup for more.

"It was the night Merle died," Daryl recalled, obliging her silent request. He took a sip himself and then returned the bottle to Rick. "We sat outside on top of the bus, drinkin' Cap'n Morgan 'til we couldn't feel shit."

"We laughed so hard that night."

"I remember tears comin' down, we laughed so hard," Daryl smiled. "That was a good fuckin' night."

"Could've been a really bad one, but it wasn't," Carol nodded, her blue eyes focused solely on him.

Michonne watched the two of them, struck by how easy their friendship seemed to come. She didn't know a whole lot about Carol, or even Daryl for that matter, but it was obvious that she had great affection for the man beside her. It played as genuine friendship, though. Not like herself and Rick, radiating sexual vibes to anyone within a 50-foot circumference. No, Carol and Daryl were just comfortable. They could've been best friends or they could've been in a relationship for the past twenty years and no one would've known the difference. How she wished it could be that easy with Rick.

"You all ready to go on this run?" Daryl asked Michonne, rattling her from her thoughts.

She immediately grimaced at the question and then looked to Rick to see if he'd heard. His eyebrows were knitted into its own scowl, his icy stare locked on her. Yep, he heard. "Not quite," she finally retorted with a small sigh.

She had been avoiding the subject for almost a week now, absolutely hating how the conversation always went with Rick. She didn't want to worry him, he didn't want to burden her, and it was just an all-around tense discussion to have. But now, she was supposed to leave in the morning and she had yet to say the words to him. Even worse, he wasn't saying anything now. Just staring.

Daryl obliviously continued, "Well Karen said she had a couple boxes of food packed up for us, so you ain't gotta worry about that, at least."

Michonne nodded at his words, but kept her eyes on Rick, watching his expression go from perturbed to plain old pissed off. He took another long pull from the bottle of whiskey, then set it on the table harshly before looking to Daryl and Carol. "I gotta get back to my kid." He made sure to ignore Michonne on his way out of the room.

Daryl noted the exchange, or lack thereof, between the two, and wondered out loud, "Did I fuck somethin' up?"

"No," Michonne assured him quietly, finally downing her shot. "I did."

* * *

The night went on and Rick continued to snub Michonne. For the first time in weeks, he ate with Carl, Judith, and some of the newer folks at the prison, as opposed to offering his usual invite for her to join his family. It was an odd feeling, needing to talk to him, but being ostracized by him again. She hadn't felt this way since she first arrived at the prison. Except back then, she didn't give a damn. Now, it hurt.

But time had ticked away, and she and Daryl were leaving soon, so she had to see him, despite whatever protests he had about it. As much as everyone hated to think about it, anytime you left the prison, there was a chance you wouldn't make it back. And she couldn't risk leaving that way.

She waited for dawn, knowing he would likely be up to begin his farming duties soon, and headed for his cell. She lightly rapped on the wall, not wanting to wake Judith, and waited for an answer. Nothing.

"Rick?" she whispered, saying a silent prayer that he would answer. She waited longer than she probably should have, and was about to open the door herself when she heard his feet pad across the floor. Finally, he appeared from behind the sheet that covered his doorway. "Hey," she greeted him nervously.

"Hey." He looked like he'd gotten as much sleep as she had, which was to say, none.

"Can we talk?"

"Oh, now you wanna talk." His eyes narrowed as though he was really considering declining her. But he finally grabbed a pair of flip-flops he tended to use for shower shoes and led her outside of the cellblock. Once they were a safe distance away, he leaned against the wall and waited.

"I get it," she immediately surrendered. "I fucked up. I should've said something sooner."

"That would be an understatement," he nodded sarcastically.

She sensed his attitude threatening to turn this into a fight, so she took a deep breath before continuing. "Don't get curt with me, Rick. You know you've been avoiding me since I got back."

"I haven't been avoiding you, Michonne. I've been busy."

She nodded slowly herself, almost chiding him. "Yes, how could I forget. The former leader turned farmer has no time on his schedule for little old me."

"Wait a minute. Are you not the one that's about to walk outta here for another two weeks?" He lowered his head, looking up at her antagonistically. His piercing blue eyes showed all of the disappointment that his tone was unwilling to relay. "I don't recall you knocking on my door in the past week. Not to talk, anyway."

She couldn't figure out how it had come to this. How things had changed so drastically from New Year's to now. Things seemed perfect then, but now… "I don't understand what happened," she submitted softly. "Everything was fine the last time I left."

"Everything was not fine when you left! Nothing is fine when you leave."

"Rick..."

"Tell me what to do, Michonne. Do I lie to you and say everything is all right? Or do I tell you the truth and have you out there feeling guilty for leaving?"

"Why don't you understand?" she demanded.

"I do! That's the fucked up thing, I get it. Somebody needs to look for that son of a bitch. I just wish it didn't have to be you." He closed the gap between them, taking her face into his hands, their noses and mouths inches apart. They were so close, it felt like their eyes had melted into one another. "Stop running away from me," he whispered.

She pulled away from him, her steely resolve turning to dust beneath his stare. "This isn't about you," she frowned. "It's not even about us."

"You keep telling yourself that." He watched the way she backed away from him, as though if she got too close, she might start to let go a little. "I don't know what you're so scared of, but I'm not here to hurt you."

"I'm not scared of anything," she lied. She was scared of all of it. Everything. "Stop acting like I owe you something."

"You owe me an explanation, at the least. Why start this if you didn't wanna finish it?"

"Start what?" she snapped.

"Did you, or did you not initiate a physical relationship with me?"

"What, because I put my hand on your dick? Like you hadn't been staring at my ass for four months?"

"Fuck you, Michonne. You wanted this just as much as I did. Now it's time to be adults and you wanna hide. I see what you're doing."

"You're an asshole," she scoffed.

"So are you."

She started to walk away from the conversation altogether, but she didn't like how he put all the blame on her. Like she was the only one scared here. He supposedly shared everything with her, but magically forgot to divulge that he was stepping down as leader? There was something wrong with him too, and he wasn't getting off that easy, acting like she was the only problem here.

"It's just so easy, right? To just… open up and be normal, huh?" she demanded, turning back towards him. "If you're happy and whole now, then good for you, I guess, but you don't get to resent me for still being haunted by my demons. Not while you're still wearing your wedding ring, Rick."

He fixed his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he glanced down at his left hand. She was right – there it was, the silver band glistening against his third finger. He hadn't even noticed, never thought about it. It was so much a part of him, it never occurred to him to take it off. He thought about doing it right then and there, but it seemed like a very unceremonious moment to officially leave his wife behind.

"Is this what's bothering you?" He held up his hand.

Truthfully, no. A part of her wondered why he had yet to take it off, but it wasn't like the two of them were in an actual relationship. It wasn't surprising that he wasn't ready to take that step yet. But it would've been a start. "Part of it," she sighed. "I don't know."

"Well what else is it?"

She took a deep breath, and she knew she was on the verge of tears when it came out shaky. She hated fighting with him. She hated leaving him. She hated loving him. "I just wish I had more to give you," she whispered, almost to herself.

"All I'm asking for is you, Michonne."

She nodded, trying to knock back the tears as she did. She couldn't figure out why the fuck this was so hard for her. She could send a sword through a heart with a fair amount of ease, but the idea of giving hers to anyone was the scariest thing in the world. Not after everything she'd been through. She could process the concept of the dead coming back to life. But falling in love again? That was truly the impossible.

She couldn't have this conversation anymore. "I gotta go, Rick."

"Please don't walk away from me," he croaked out hoarsely. He, too, was tired of fighting. The thought of her leaving for two weeks, and the possibility of those two weeks turning into forever, was a lot to process. But even worse was the thought that these could be the last things they said to one another. "Michonne…"

But walk away, she did. He was practically begging and she was practically running from him.

"Michonne!"

He followed after her, through the cellblocks and into the courtyard where Daryl had to have been waiting at least 20 minutes for her. She looked back at Rick, who'd stopped in his tracks so as not to make a scene, and hesitantly opened the car door.

"I'm sorry." It was all she said before slamming the door shut. Once safely inside with Daryl, she refused to look anywhere but ahead of her and directed to him, "Let's go."


	14. end of the road

_**A/N: So yeah, it got a little dusty in the room when I read the last few reviews! I really don't know what to say, except that I bow at you guys' feet for sticking with me through this. Sometimes, I write and just wonder if I'm making a giant mess. So validation from strangers is like a huge thing for me LOL. Seriously though, I can't say enough what it means to me. I sound like a broken record, I know, but it could not be any truer. So again, THANK YOU. **_

* * *

**14: end of the road**

Daryl and Michonne had been on the road for four days, both of them awkwardly avoiding the inevitable conversation about how she'd left the prison, and more importantly, Rick. But lucky for Michonne, they'd been so busy chasing leads that there hadn't been much time to talk.

On one of Michonne's previous outings, she was lucky enough to stumble upon the body of one of the Governor's lackeys. Shumpert was his name, if she recalled correctly. She surmised that the other guy, Martinez, if not The Governor, wouldn't be far behind, but was never able to find him on her own. Which was why she had enlisted Daryl for this particular excursion. He was the best tracker she knew, even if the only one, and her instinct to ask him along had proven fruitful.

He was able to lead them to an entire camp, about forty miles from the prison, where Martinez seemed to be running the whole thing. They watched the group for a day, seeing him lead a small group off site, most likely on a supply run. Michonne was anxious to get to him, knowing he was their best shot at finding The Governor, but Daryl had convinced her that they needed to play this cool. They would wait for his return, no matter how long it took, and then question the bastard.

They had been waiting for a day already and were becoming restless. "Shoulda brought some cards," Daryl realized as he finished his dinner – a sleeve of Girl Scout cookies and a bottle of water.

"I have a couple of books, if you feel like reading some Dostoyevsky," Michonne offered as she rolled down the car window. She'd read Crime and Punishment more times than she could count, even before the turn, but always brought it with her on these trips. It kept her focused in some strange way.

Daryl rolled his eyes at the thought, knowing he wouldn't get past the first page. "I guess that's all you can do when you're out here alone," he realized.

"Yeah. I'm also used to the silence," she shrugged. "You can take a nap if you want, I can take watch."

"I'm good." He shifted in his seat, letting out a loud yawn as he did so. "Should wait 'til dark, at least. Then we can each do an hour on, hour off."

She nodded, still staring out the window towards the mystery camp. Her stomach began to growl, but she couldn't bring herself to stuff down another pack of dry crackers at the moment.

"There's some Thin Mints left if you want 'em," Daryl offered, having heard her bodily functions in the quiet of the car.

"I'm good," she declined, watching several walkers amble past the campsite she'd been studying. The people there didn't seem especially adept at survival, from what she had observed. She wondered how they'd made it so far.

She appreciated that everyone in her group was skilled at killing walkers, at the very least. It sometimes astonished her when she came across people that still had no idea what they were doing, roughly two years into the apocalypse. No one in her group relied on one person to save them all – it was a cohesive effort to keep each other safe. She couldn't imagine any other way to live in this world.

She made a silent bet with herself that she'd hear someone scream within a matter of minutes, and she'd been right. She laughed to herself at the ridiculousness of it.

"What's so funny?" Daryl wondered.

"I just don't know how some people got this far, y'know?"

"Oh. Yeah. I think most of the people left in this world are either crazy, or been hidin' behind someone crazy."

That sounded about right to her. You'd have to be out of your mind to be able to adapt to the shit they were going through. "You sayin' you're crazy too?" she attempted to joke, even though she wasn't in a particularly light mood.

"Too?" he looked at her.

She almost forgot she wasn't talking to Rick. They always had that common thread of being a little bit out of it, and often laughed about it, even if only to keep from crying. But Daryl had no idea she talked to her dead boyfriend, kept pet walkers, or that she was cripplingly closed off. "Nothin'," she shook her head absently.

Daryl stayed quiet for a long time. He wasn't sure what she meant, but he was pretty sure her silence took her back to Rick and whatever happened there. He'd been wanting to ask her about it since the minute they left, but knew he wouldn't get an answer just based on her demeanor. Her body language said she was literally closed for discussion. But she seemed a little less cagey now, and he knew all too well, closed mouths didn't get fed, and unasked questions didn't get answered. So he went for it. "Can I ask you somethin' personal?"

Michonne knew what the question would be, and she really didn't want to discuss it. But hell, it couldn't hurt any worse than she already did. The damage had been done. "What."

"You and Rick. What's goin' on there?"

She coughed, feeling like the question had smacked her, even though she'd prepared herself for it. "I don't know," was the short answer. And that was the truth. She knew she had immense feelings for Rick, much against her better judgment, but she didn't know how to reconcile that with the disdain he had for her at the moment.

"But there is something."

She met Daryl's gaze and nodded.

"Have y'all… done anything yet? I mean, how far did your… 'talks' go?" He felt unbelievably uncomfortable asking this, but they didn't have shit else to do, and he honestly wondered how far gone they were. Having seen Rick go down the rabbit hole after Lori, he wasn't sure what this thing with Michonne might have meant for his friend's sanity – especially if it didn't end well.

"We've done a lot," she confirmed with an unnoticeable smirk playing across her features, thinking of all those fantastic nights they'd shared.

He nodded. That made sense, given how differently Rick had been acting – the immense highs when she was there, followed by unexplainable lows when she left again. He'd seen him in better and worse moods than ever in the prior month. And that was saying a lot. "Did you know he was gonna step down from leading the group?"

"I… was not consulted." She let out a perturbed sigh, watching a puff of cold air follow it. "He has his reasons, though."

"I know," Daryl agreed. "Rick ain't never gave me a reason to doubt him, ain't bout to start now."

She wished she had thought about that before she fucked everything up. Rick had done a lot to be a good friend, a good lover, a good companion to her, but all she did was run. Even worse, she couldn't even pinpoint a good reason for it. Just plain ass fear. "You ever been in love with anybody, Daryl?"

He didn't even have to think for a moment to know the answer to that. "Nope."

"Well it sucks."

Daryl's eyebrows knitted in a bit of surprise. He knew she was implying that she was in love with Rick, and he wasn't sure what to do with that information. Love was the last thing in the world he was qualified to give any advice on.

"You think he's in love with you?"

"I have no idea." That wasn't true. She and Rick were so much alike, she figured he had to be feeling at least some of what she did. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been pushing so hard when she pushed back.

"Yeah you do," Daryl chuckled. He might not have known shit about love, but he could read people pretty damn well. "I don't know what y'all were fightin' about before we left, but this life is too damn short for that. Y'all seemed to be havin' fun, whatever you were doin'. It ain't gotta be about any more than that."

"I'm not even sure what that means anymore. 'Having fun.'" Rick made her feel alive again, for sure. But the thing was, he made her feel. And there was no fun in that. It was scary, more than anything.

* * *

Back at the prison, Rick and Carl were tending to their farming duties and delighting in the fact that spring was quickly approaching. The mornings were cold, but by noon, the sun had warmed things considerably, and it was pretty nice to be outside, basking in the day.

"It's a beautiful day," Rick noted thoughtfully, seeing Carl take a break to gaze at the sky. "Reminds me why we try so hard to stay alive."

Carl agreed with this assessment, but he had other things on his mind. Michonne had been gone with Daryl for almost a week, and he knew his dad had to have been bothered by it, just like all the other times, but he had been acting as if everything was fine. In fact, he had been overly cheerful since they left, and Carl knew that didn't make any sense. He was worried about his old man.

"Hey, Dad?"

Rick had gone back to pulling weeds, but paused and turned back to Carl. "Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he squinted, knowing it couldn't have been anything good. Anything inconsequential, he would've come right out and asked. The question before the question meant something serious.

"Why do you get so mad every time Michonne leaves here?"

Yep, there it was. Rick let out a long sigh, unsure of whether he wanted to have this conversation. "I'm not mad, son."

"Yeah, but… you usually are."

"I just worry about her, I guess."

"Is that why you're pretending not to be mad now?" he furthered. "Because she's with Daryl?"

Truthfully, he didn't know how to feel about her being out there with Daryl. He was relieved she wasn't alone, of course, but watching her run from him and into Daryl's car was aggravating, to say the least. "Pretending not to be mad," he chuckled. He took a seat in the grass and gestured for Carl to do the same. "What makes you think that?"

"I know how you are when you're really happy. It's on your face. You're around people more. Willingly," Carl was explaining. "This week, you've been laughing and all that, but it's not real. You still keep to yourself and only stay when you have to. I can see it, Dad."

His son was so insightful, it bordered on annoying sometimes. He was like his mother in that way. "Carl…"

"I know you worry about her. I do too. But there's something else there. I don't know if you're sad or angry… maybe both. But I don't like it."

"I'm sorry," he offered genuinely, hating that his son was able to read him so easily. "I don't mean to be that way."

"I know," Carl nodded. "I just wanted to know why, I guess."

"I wish I had a reason for you. It's just… the way I feel."

"Is it because you like her?"

"I like everybody here, Carl."

"You know what I mean, Dad. You spend more time with her than you do with anyone."

"I think you claim that title," Rick chuckled lightly, trying to ignore the fact that he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation.

"You don't go to the tombs with me every night," he countered cautiously. He wondered if Michonne had ever shared the fact that he knew this about them, but it seemed she hadn't.

"How do you know about that?" Rick frowned.

"I just do," Carl shrugged. "I know you guys talk. A lot."

"And how does that make you feel?"

He wasn't sure how he felt about it, quite honestly. He wanted his dad to be happy, especially after the way his marriage had ended, but he found himself feeling a bit jealous whenever he headed off to be with Michonne. He knew it was irrational, because his dad spent plenty of time with him, but he never seemed to tire of Michonne's company. He didn't know why his dad didn't feel the same way about him.

"Honestly?" Carl began with a sigh. "It bothered me a little."

Rick nodded understandingly, hating that he ever made his son feel that way. "Bothered?"

"Bothers," he admitted quietly. "Don't get me wrong. I know we spend all day together, and I know you're always there for me. It's just… I dunno," he exhaled again. "We never really just sit and talk, like how it used to be. It's always a lecture, or some instructions, or maybe something about Judith. But Michonne said you guys talk about just, like, random stuff, and I just kinda wonder why you never do that with me."

"Jesus," Rick chuckled to himself, unsure of what to say. He honestly felt like he was on the verge of tears, hearing that this was how his son felt. He had no idea. He would've loved to sit around and shoot the shit with his kid. The idea just never crossed his mind. "Carl, I had no idea that's what you'd want."

"Well duh. What kind of kid doesn't want their dad to be their best friend?"

"A few months ago, I'd say you were," Rick joked, recalling how disrespectful Carl had been after The Governor's last attack. Things had changed a lot in just a few short months, and he was glad for that.

"There's no reason to bring up old stuff," Carl smiled. He was glad to have been able to say this to his dad without feeling like a whiny little kid. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you love her? Michonne, I mean."

Rick's eyes darted up at the question, stunned that something like that was even on his son's radar. He had feelings for her, for sure, but even he hadn't had the chance to explore whether it was love. What could Carl know about it? "Why do you ask that?"

"I just get this vibe," Carl looked his dad in the eye as he spoke. "I know you like her. I don't even know if you've even kissed each other or whatever, but just seeing how you are with each other... I don't know." He shrugged, not even sure if he had a full grasp of what he meant. He loved Michonne himself, but he was asking something different about his dad's relationship with her. "Like, are you in love with her?"

This was a heavy conversation. Rick found himself chuckling at how baffled he was by it all. "You've observed a lot, huh?"

"Not much else to do around here," he smiled shyly.

"I wish I knew what to say."

"If you're in love with her, I'm okay with it."

"Are you now?"

"I mean, I don't want you to hold back because of me or what I just said."

"That's sweet of you to say, but trust me, that's not somethin' you need to worry about." Rick appreciated that his son was worried about him, and wished he could've calmed his fears a bit more. But the truth was, he wasn't the big impediment in he and Michonne's relationship. If they had any chance of a future, it was on Michonne to fix it at this point.

* * *

It was near dawn when Daryl spotted Martinez and two others were returning from their expedition. He didn't hesitate to wake Michonne and let her know that it was time to move. Without any words, the two of them quickly crept across the field separating them, knowing they needed to take the trio before they got any nearer to their camp. When they got close, Daryl approached them directly while Michonne skulked behind.

"Easy there," Daryl greeted them, his crossbow pointed directly at Martinez' right eye.

Michonne had her sword readied to take off the other two's heads at the slightest of movements.

"Don't fuckin' move," he added, making a silent promise that neither one of them would hesitate to kill them.

"You come to rob us?" Martinez asked calmly. He recognized them instantly and wouldn't have been surprised in the least.

"Just wanna talk, pretty boy."

"Why don't I believe that," one of the other guys inserted with his hands raised.

"No one is talking to you," Michonne growled from behind him. "We want him."

"I'll talk if you let my men go," Martinez offered composedly. "They got nothin' to do with this."

"You've tried to kill me three times now," Daryl reminded him gruffly. "You lucky any of y'all are still breathin'."

"Fair enough."

"Martinez, who the fuck are these people," the other guy questioned shakily. He didn't have plans on dying that night, and certainly not at the hands of another person.

"Just some adversaries I had in a past life."

"That life caught up with you," Daryl assured him, moving closer in on his target. "Where's your boss?"

"Don't have one," Martinez answered confidently. "I run this place."

"You wanna die for being a smart ass?" Michonne scowled at him. "You know who he's talking about."

"Swear to god, I don't know."

"Karen told us you and Shumpert were the only ones that left alive, and you went with him. Where the fuck is he?"

He stared at the woman that had taken The Governor's eye, knowing that his disappearance must have been eating away at her. It was obvious she hated the man the moment she laid eyes on him. He always had a weird admiration for her, and the fact that she saw through that monster immediately. "I honestly wish I could tell you, Michonne."

"Don't say my name like you know me."

"Fine," he shrugged with his hands still up in the air. "Me and Shumpert did leave with him, but it wasn't long before we left him altogether. He was fuckin' crazy, you know that. He killed all those people and then wouldn't speak. Just stared into the distance, as if they'd taken something from him. It was so weird," he recalled. "So we left. Haven't seen him since probably two or three days after you did."

"Where did you leave him?" Daryl asked, his voice already thick with disappointment.

"We drove for a couple of hours before the gas got low. We were probably in Fairburn. Not too far from Atlanta, honestly."

Michonne and Daryl looked at each other, unsure of what to do with that information. That was the best lead they had, but if The Governor was anywhere near Atlanta, finding him would be next to impossible.

"That's all you know?" Daryl demanded one last time before they went on their way.

"Swear to god," Martinez repeated. "He could honestly be anywhere by now."

The two of them let their three hostages go and cautiously headed back to their car, the frustration palpable.

"It was a longshot anyways," Daryl mumbled as he hopped back into their SUV. "Least we ain't gotta be gone two weeks."

She didn't know how to feel about that. Not only had her biggest lead turned to shit before her eyes, but now she had to go back to the prison and deal with the mess she'd made with Rick. This had not been her week, to say the least.

Noting her silence, Daryl glanced over to her. "You all right?"

She wasn't sure of how to respond to that. If she were being honest, the answer was probably no. "I'm fine."


	15. as long as you know who you belong to

**15: as long as you know who you belong to**

It was close to midnight when Rick was finally able to return to his cellblock. There had been a breach at the open side of the prison, causing a small attack on cellblock D. Luckily, no one died, but he did have to help amputate one of their own, which was a gruesome task. After Hershel's leg, he hoped he would never have to do something like that again, but they always seemed to be facing one catastrophe or another, so he could never quite put his weapons down. It was taking its toll on Rick, to say the least.

He arrived at his living quarters, shocked to see Michonne sitting on his bed. She had her head bowed, and her hands were tightly gripping the base of the bed, as if she were bracing herself for something. His heart skipped a beat at the sight. It hadn't been two weeks yet, and they parted on such bad terms, he had to wonder if he was seeing things again.

"Is this real?" he asked out loud, knowing she would know what he meant.

She looked up and looked him in the eye, immediately losing herself in his stare. She didn't know what it was, but it sometimes took everything to tear her eyes away from him. "Yes." Both the question and the answer had a double meaning, which wasn't lost on either of them.

"What are you doing here?" he stammered, already hoping that her early homecoming meant The Governor was dead.

"'Nother dead end," she whispered sadly. "Didn't know what else to do but come home."

He nodded disappointedly. He didn't know what to say to her after the way she left. He wanted to be angry about it, but more than anything, he was hurt.

"You got a minute to talk?"

He nodded again, taking a tentative seat next to her. He was encouraged by the fact that she had come to him on her own, but he was still scared of where this conversation was headed. He waited silently for her to begin.

She took a deep breath and gazed at him. "I'm sorry, Rick. I'm sorry for leaving the way I did, and I'm sorry for acting the way I do. I'm just… not prepared… for this."

"Prepared for what," he inquired quietly.

"For a relationship. For honesty and openness. I don't know how to do those things anymore."

"Michonne, I've seen you do it. I know it can't be easy, but I just want you to let me help you through whatever you're going through."

She knew that was all he wanted. He wasn't asking for a lot, and that's why it really sucked that she couldn't give it to him. She had avoided crying for a long time now, but the tears came rushing down and she couldn't hold back any longer. "I'm just scared," she sniffled quietly.

He moved closer to her and began to softly rub her back, as he always did. "Of what?"

"I'm scared of how I feel about you. Of what happens if this becomes real and then I lose you." She wiped furiously at her tears, but they wouldn't stop coming down. "You're so good. And you care. You care way more than I can afford to. And you and Carl…"

"Me and Carl what," he wondered when her sentence trailed off into silence.

"You would do anything for him. You do everything for him." She was almost sobbing, thinking of her own baby boy and what his father couldn't do for him. "It's an honor to know someone like you, Rick. I need you to know that."

Rick was so confused. If anything, he'd been honored that she graced him with her presence, her wisdom, her strength. He'd been falling apart when she came along, and there he was, against all odds, getting better. "Michonne…"

"I think I'm in love with you," she cried. It shocked her that those words had come out of her mouth. Even if she knew it in her head, she never thought she would be able to openly admit it. But even more devastating was the next thing that she needed to say. "But I think we should be friends." Her stomach dropped at the thought. A part of her had gotten so used to whatever relationship they had been building.

Rick stopped consoling her and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hand over his face. "That's really what you want?"

"It's not," she admitted softly. "But it's what we need."

He let out a long sigh. "All right then."

She leaned forward too, so that their faces were close again. "I'd follow you through the gates of Hell themselves. You know that, right?"

"Unfortunately, I do."

"So don't think this has anything to do with me not trusting you. It's me I can't trust."

He nodded. "If this is what it takes..." He ran a tired hand over his face again and then looked her in the eye. "I can't lose you, Michonne."

She didn't know what 'being friends' meant after everything they shared, but she felt them falling apart at the seams, and she couldn't afford to lose him either. "You won't."

She would miss his kisses, and he would miss her everything, but both of them understood that they would have much rather had their friendship in tact at the end of the day. Especially if feelings were going to distract them from the real goal at hand, which was staying alive. The prison offered a lot of protection, sure, but they were never truly safe as long as The Governor was out there. And as long as he was out there, Michonne would likely be looking for him, pulling them apart. This truly was for the best.

Rick was so tired of fighting, a small amount of relief washed over him as he realized what was happening. Reality would likely hit him in the morning, but at the moment, he was just glad this wasn't another argument.

"I'll let you get to bed," Michonne announced, standing from her spot. She didn't actually want to leave – being alone was the last thing she wanted in that moment. But he looked tired, and there was nothing left to say.

He stared up at her, memorizing her face as if he'd never see her again. She was so beautiful, even in all her sadness. It took everything he had not to stand up and kiss her. "Goodnight, Michonne."

"Night, Rick."

* * *

The weeks rolled by at the prison, the approach of spring giving life to pretty much everything around them. Outside, the farm that Rick, Carl, and Hershel were cultivating had become quite a beautiful sight. They were surrounded with greenery and vegetation at every turn, which was truly lovely after all of the crap they'd been eating for two years. Relationships seemed to be blossoming as well, between Zack and Beth, Karen and Tyreese; now Glenn and Maggie were getting married. The atmosphere around the prison was good, to say the least.

Maggie had chosen April 27th as her wedding day – it was her mom's birth date, and the only date she'd kept track of since her death, so it seemed only appropriate. And while she didn't want anyone to make a big fuss over whatever the actual wedding turned out to be, the prison didn't have a whole lot to celebrate those days, so indeed, a fuss was made. On all of the recent runs, everyone would quietly search for items to supplement Maggie and Glenn's big day: decorations, wedding gifts, dresses, even suits and ties. Needless to say, a wedding in a prison during the zombie apocalypse wasn't going to be a particularly fancy affair, but it was quite whimsical in its own way.

Paper lanterns were hung across the courtyard, and everything was draped in white. Hershel had been growing gardenias for months now, solely for the occasion, and now, they were serving their purpose, adorning every tabletop under the gazebo. Everyone in the prison was in attendance, dressed in the best clothes they could find. Even Daryl took off his vest and washed his hair for the event. They were all seated in a semicircle, surrounding Hershel, Beth, and Glenn, awaiting Maggie's arrival.

Coldplay's 'Green Eyes' played on a set of speakers above them as Maggie came into view, toting a bouquet of azaleas and her blinding smile. She wore a simple white sundress she and Sasha found on a run. It was long and lacy in a few places - dainty without being frilly. She knew it was the one the second she saw it. Her hair was pinned back, and she'd used a bit of gold lipstick as eyeshadow, while her lips were a peachy shade that complemented her fair skin. She was radiant. Glenn's breath caught in his throat when he saw her.

"I think Glenn's gonna pass out," Carl whispered to his father, noticing his look of shellshock.

Rick smiled, recalling that he felt exactly the way Glenn looked on his own wedding day. That mixture of panic and elation was a heady tonic. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever experience that again. Or even if his son would.

"It's just nerves," Michonne supplied from the other side of Carl. "One day, you'll understand."

Carl made a face, doubting that that would ever be true. If the girls his age in the prison were any indication, he was not going to be falling in love any time soon. "I really don't think so."

"You never know," Michonne winked, glancing over to Rick. Their eyes locked on one another and she unsuccessfully tried to read his thoughts.

"She's right, son. You never know." He put his arm around Carl and turned back to the wedding taking place.

Maggie had tears streaming down her face before Glenn could even begin his vows. "God, I'm such a girl," she whispered jokingly.

Glenn was smiling as if he'd never seen her before, taking her hands into his. "It's unbelievable that we're standing here right now," he began. "For a multitude of reasons, but the main one being that I can't believe how lucky I am that you found me. I had given up on love," he nodded to her and to everyone else. "Who the hell thought they'd ever find it in this world, y'know? But you galloped into my life, literally. And... it was over. I knew right then, right there, that you were the person I was gonna do this with. I didn't know how I was gonna do it. And I'm really lucky you did all the work," he chuckled, "but there was no way I could walk this Earth's surface without you by my side. And that's all I wanna do. Today, tomorrow, and forever, Maggie. I love you."

The female sniffles in the audience became abundant, but it hadn't escaped Michonne that Rick was also trying to inconspicuously wipe a tear or two from his eye as he listened. He could really break her heart without even trying. "Stop it before you make me cry," she teasingly hissed at him.

He smiled to himself and looked down at Judith, asleep in Carl's arms. He also couldn't believe that all the shit he'd experienced in the past two years had brought him to that moment. His tears were happy ones, and before then, he wasn't sure he would ever be able to say that again. He was quite enjoying this feeling. "You oughta try it sometime," he winked at her.

* * *

The ceremony had had ended, and as sunset approached, the fun part, in the form of the reception, was underway. There was music, alcohol, fresh food, and even a dance floor, thanks to the hard work of everyone at the prison. It was all so well done, it almost felt like a normal day. It was hard to believe there were walkers lurking just a few hundred feet from the festivities.

Michonne was sitting at a table by herself, enjoying the warm evening, along with what was left of her meal, when Carol approached with wine in hand. "Hey," she greeted her with a tired smile.

"Thought you could use one of these," she handed over a cup. "Mind if I join you?"

Her dates for the night, Rick and Carl, seemed to have disappeared, so she had no legitimate reason for her not to. "Sure."

Carol accepted the halfhearted invite and took a seat beside her mysterious friend. With a sigh, she took in the scenery of the dance floor, where several people were swaying to a Frank Sinatra song. As she sipped her drink, she noticed Rick out there with Judith and smiled brightly at the view. "Good Lord, what a beautiful sight."

Michonne followed Carol's gaze to where Rick had his baby girl attached to his hip, her head rested against his chest. He rocked slowly to the music, holding one of her little hands, while his lips grazed the top of her head as he sang softly to her. It was the simplest, most romantic thing she'd ever seen in her life. Tears were streaming down her face before she knew what was happening. "Shit," she quietly breathed to herself, trying to maintain her composure.

Carol turned to the sound and was shocked to see her crying. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

"I'm fine." She chuckled at the absurdity of her tears, wiping her face with a napkin. "I just… didn't expect to see that, I guess." No, she hadn't prepared herself for Rick Grimes, in a clean shirt and tie, hair combed, beard trimmed, dancing with his daughter to 'The Way You Look Tonight.' Nothing could have prepared her for that.

"And just think… they're all yours," Carol grinned.

Still sniffling, Michonne frowned at her words. "What?"

"Rick. And Judith. And Carl. You're like your own little family."

She laughed again, unsure of what to say to that. They were close, sure, even after she and Rick decided not to pursue a relationship, but they certainly weren't hers. Were they? "I wish," she whispered ruefully.

"Maybe you can't see it like the rest of us. But it's true," Carol offered genuinely. "And you're theirs."

She was confused by Carol's words, but they put her at peace, in a way. She was so afraid that she had ruined her relationship with Rick. And in some aspects, she had. He didn't look at her quite the same way, didn't touch her nearly as much. But that was to be expected when they decided to be friends. She was just glad she could still talk to him. She could still show up at his cell at 2:00 AM and he would let her in, without question. And she would go to his top bunk, and they would talk about nothing until they fell asleep. And he still shared his fruit snacks and taught her how to ride a horse. And she still brought him dinner when he had a long day and no time to stop and eat. She still looked for something to bring back to him whenever she was out on the road – an mp3 player, a pair of goofy socks, a bottle of Jack. It was different, but it was good. It was real. And maybe Carol was right, maybe he was hers in some strange, small way. The thought made her smile.

Rick caught her smile from across the dance floor and he wondered what she was so cheerful about. He wondered if she knew how unbelievably beautiful she was when she looked happy. He stared at her until he caught her eye and nodded for her to come join him and Judith. She sauntered over to him, her coral-colored dress swaying as she moved. He noted the color was immaculate against her skin, and the last bit of sun in the sky had her glistening.

"I hate to interrupt such a lovely moment," she grinned, approaching the father-daughter duo.

"Ah, don't be. She gets sick of me pretty quickly," he joked.

Michonne tentatively ran a hand over Judith's hair, reveling in the softness of her little baby head. She almost felt silly, having spent so much time avoiding her. "There's not a chance that's true."

"What were you over there smiling about?"

"I don't know." She was smiling again. "Us, I guess."

"Us?" his eyebrows raised at the idea of what that could mean.

"I mean, I'm just glad I have you. I'm glad we could save this."

He nodded, but still wasn't sure what she meant. "Me, too."

"You're my best friend, Rick."

His eyes lingered on her for a moment, lost in the earnestness of her own stare. He found himself pondering what the future held for the two of them. They had decided to be friends, and he was fine with that. But there was something in the way she moved him, he wondered if maybe this wasn't the end of their story. If maybe... it was just the beginning.

He leaned in, careful not to disrupt Judith, and let his lips land near Michonne's ear. He smiled himself as he softly whispered, "I love you, too."

_-End_

* * *

**_A/N: Well, that's all, folks! I really can't thank you enough for kickin' it with me on this. I've had way too much fun hearing from you all. Quite honestly, I hadn't initially planned to end it here, but as I was writing, it just felt right. I'm working on a sequel (I think), but I thought it important for this to be a standalone piece. So I don't know, if you loved it, hated it, want me to die, let me know lol. Hopefully, we'll meet again for the next one, but either way, I reeeeally hope you enjoyed this one. You guys are so freaking awesome. THANK YOU. Truly. -Ashley _**


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